


Whatever chains are holding you back

by dunklenacht310



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: AU, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Zayn, Emotional rollercoasters, Emotions, Gay Sex, Harry isn't famous, M/M, Mentions of Anxiety, So are Louis and Liam, Top Harry, Zayn is a mildly famous singer, lack of emotions, mentions of depression, sound tech!Harry, sound tech!Niall, switching (only mentioned)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-01-31 11:32:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 36,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18590416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dunklenacht310/pseuds/dunklenacht310
Summary: After months since Zayn had opened the donation box, it was clear they were all right, especially Louis.Zayn should have seen it coming. Emotions take time to grow back once you take them out and give them to someone else, so it was only obvious that people would give him only the bad ones, to get rid of them. The description on Zayn’s box saidEvery emotion is accepted, after all.-AU where emotions can be bottled and sold/given out, and Zayn is born without any emotions, so he opens a donation box to get the chance of feeling something. Everybody uses it to get rid of their own bad feelings and give them to Zayn. Until someone gives Zayn happiness. The donation is anonymous, and Zayn has no idea how to find the person, and no idea what a good feeling feels like.





	1. Prologue - Bottles

**Author's Note:**

> Usual disclaimer: I don't know or own any of the characters present in this work. I only own the plot and the original characters.  
> The title of this work is taken from _What a feeling_ by One Direction.   
> All the other songs that will be mentioned belong to Zayn Malik.

 

 

 

Roughly everyone he knew had told Zayn that the donation box was going to be a terrible idea.

Trisha and Yaser had said that it was too risky, taking whatever people threw his way.

Doniya, Waliyah and Safaa had said that people don’t just _give_ without taking anything in return, so nobody was gonna give Zayn shit.

Louis had said people are arseholes, and they would only give Zayn their scraps, the bad things they didn’t want.

After months since Zayn had opened the donation box, it was clear they were all right, especially Louis.

Zayn should have seen it coming. Emotions take time to grow back once you take them out and give them to someone else, so it was only obvious that people would give him only the bad ones, to get rid of them. The description on Zayn’s box said _Every emotion is accepted_ , after all.

His family and friends didn’t understand why he would take those bad feelings and implant them in himself anyway. They didn’t understand, because they had emotions of their own, and didn’t know anything different.

They didn’t know the level of emptiness you felt when you didn’t have any emotions. Zayn, on the other hand, knew. Because he was born without any emotion at all.

All he had were the scraps. The surrogates of emotions, the ones people took out of themselves and sold to people like him. The good emotions were expensive, and Zayn didn’t have enough money for even a short feeling of contentment, not even now that he was becoming richer as his career got better. The prices of good feelings were fucking _ridiculous_.

So he’d opened the donation box, asking people to give him what they didn’t want.

And of course people used it to get rid of their own bad feelings. And Zayn took them, all of them, anyway, because feeling bad things was still better than not feeling anything at all.

The emotions didn’t last long. Maybe a month, two months tops.

They hurt. Because what Zayn received were sadness, grief, anger, despair. He had no reason to feel those things, but he did anyway once he implanted the bottled emotions in himself.

He cherished them, the unwanted feelings, because he _wanted_ them even if they hurt.

Through them, Zayn _felt_ , and that was what mattered to him.

 

\---

 

Zayn wakes up, and the first thing he realizes is that the feeling of anxiety has finally worn off.

It’s been one of the worse he’s ever taken, but luckily it has also been one of the shortest. Zayn has had some realizations in the past two weeks.

The first, and most important, has been that if he was born with emotions like normal people, anxiety would be something he’d feel a lot. Because sometimes, when he’s in a crowd of strangers or performing, he can feel the _dullness_ in his stomach signalling him that if he had emotions, he would feel one in that moment.

And while he had the anxiety coming from a teenage girl called Allie, he’d felt it double as strong when he sung or found himself in uncomfortable situations.

So yeah, he’s apparently a singer with anxiety, although not anymore starting today, because the anxiety has vanished.

Gifted emotions never last long. They last forever only if you buy them. Zayn doesn’t know how it’s possible, but it probably has something to do with the Emotion Lab where people go when they want something to be bottled up. The doctors there probably know how to make them last or not, and if the emotions are just a gift and therefore they have to bottle them for free, they make it so that they can’t be permanent.

Zayn is probably grateful for that, because he does want to feel everything even if it’s bad, but he would probably be dead if he had to feel just anger and anxiety for the rest of his life.

He wakes up feeling empty as usual, and he sighs going to the kitchen to make himself some breakfast (or lunch, seen how late it is) and thinking that even if there are some new emotions in the box he set in his yard, he’ll probably wait a couple days before taking them. He needs his body to get rid of the jitteriness and tremors and gasping of the anxiety some more.

As he eats his Weetabix, he thinks that if he had his own emotions, he would love the shit out of those cereals. His whole body and his brain tell him that it’s one of the best things he’s ever eaten, and he can feel the endorphins or whatever it is course through his system at the pleasure of eating them. He can feel physical pleasure.

That’s about the extent of what he feels, though. He doesn’t, _can’t_ , love Weetabix, because his body isn’t made to feel _that_.

The cereals are just a symbol, though. Whatever goes on with Weetabix goes on with his life, but at least Weetabix can’t get tired of his apathy, he thinks with a pitiful snort to himself.

Yeah, because the worst part about not being able to feel anything is probably that people get tired of it more easily than even Zayn himself does. All the people he’s dated (or seen more than once) had known beforehand that Zayn could be with them, but he couldn’t love them.

It’s not that he _can’t_ love, not really, he’s come to understand after years and years of self-analysis. It’s just that he _can’t_ feel it, when he loves someone. He’ll get the endorphins or whatever running, and the _dullness_ in his stomach telling him that he’d feel something for that person if he could, but that’s about it.

He probably loved the shit out of Perrie and Ben, but neither of them had deemed it _enough_ , not when Zayn couldn’t get the words out without the dullness seeping through them, making him feel like a fraud.

So they’d gone, left him, and Zayn hasn’t even wanted to _try_ again.

He has sex with random strangers, no strings attached, and they don’t even know “no strings attached” is the only thing Zayn’s brain can do for them.

He sings about heartbreak and longing and wanting, and he tries to convey into his lyrics whatever he can’t ever _feel_ like a proper human being.

No-Feelers are rare. Only one every ten or more generations, the study says. Of course, it had to be Zayn. His parents didn’t even realize at first, they say he was always such an affectionate and expressive child.

Nobody in their family realized until their dog died when Zayn was eight, and Zayn didn’t feel a fucking thing no matter the fact he’d grown up with Harley.

After that, the more Zayn grew up, the more evident it was.

Zayn has made his peace with it, mostly. There are some occasions when he really wishes he could just _feel_ something, like for example when his relationships go to shit because of it.

But most of the time, he comforts himself by thinking that at least he’s not an All-Feeler. Those are even rarer than the No-Feelers, and being one fucking sucks. You feel _everything_ , _always_. You get overwhelmed so hard and fast that most of the All-Feelers are a bit fucked in the head.

Zayn will take not having feelings at all over having all of them at once most of the time.

He finishes his probably-beloved Weetabix and then stands up, cracking his back and revelling in the fact that at least he can enjoy physical pleasure.

Zayn doesn’t bother wearing anything but sweats as he goes outside to smoke under his porch. He’s not _that_ famous, despite his career slowly taking off anyway, so he doubts that paps will be lurking outside his gates. Sometimes they do follow him when he goes out, but he hasn’t had problems with them stalking his place like they do with Louis and Liam.

As expected, there isn’t anyone outside of his place. The only movement comes from Rhino, playing by himself with a frisbee in the yard. Zayn smiles with something that would probably be fondness. He feels the familiar dullness, but at least with Rhino he has no doubts about what the missing feeling is. Rhino is the best thing that ever happened to Zayn, making up for his missing emotions by having enough for both of them. He barks happily when he spots Zayn, and runs the distance between the closed gates and the porch in about five seconds, making Zayn laugh when he trips over the plastic frisbee in his mouth, rolling over and then getting back up to keep running towards him.

“Hello, my baby” he coos over him when he finally reaches him, scratching him behind his ears “I love you loads, do you know that?”

Zayn can’t feel it, but he also knows it’s not a lie, not with Rhino. Not like he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t a lie with Perrie, and then Ben.

Only when his cigarette is over does he eye the donation box set just behind the fence, where people can reach it without entering his private grounds. Zayn sees the red arrow pointing downwards, signalling that someone has indeed left something for him inside.

“Let’s go see what the curse of the next weeks will be” he tells Rhino with a sigh.

Rhino, as if he can really understand what Zayn says, wags his tail and runs to the donation box.

It’s just one of those old mailboxes, really. Zayn found it at a flea market some months before, and it had been too cute not to buy it, although he hadn’t found a purpose for it until the idea of the emotion donations came to him. He’s then decorated it with reds and blacks, repainting it completely and even writing a “Thanks!” in bubble letters on the tiny door.

He’s not that famous, but as soon as he opened the donation box, people read his tweet about it and delivered their unwanted emotions. Too bad they love his music, but they don’t love him enough to get rid of _one_ single good feeling for his sake.

There have been emotions he’s had to refuse. Like the feeling of wanting to kill someone. He’d even cursed when he received that one, because who the fuck thought he was gonna accept _that_?

So he’d taken that one bottle, and emptied down his kitchen drain like an expired curry.

He shrugs at the memory, and opens the tiny door of the box to peek inside.

There’s only one bottle inside of it, with a message rolled like parchment and weirdly tied up to the neck of the bottle with a red silk ribbon.

The substance inside the bottle looks like water, as usual. What’s not usual is that it’s pink.

Zayn has never seen a pink emotion. The ones he gets are always dark. Black, blue, brown, green, but dark.

This one is so fucking bright it hurts his eyes a little bit. There’s a label on the bottle, as often happens with people who want to make sure he knows what he’s getting, but Zayn ignores it in favour of reading the message first.

_Hi Zayn! I’m a fan. I’m sorry it took me so long to send you an emotion, but I waited until I was feeling it at the fullest before going to extract it. The doctors said it won’t last that long, three weeks tops, because it’s one of the powerful ones, so it loses its effect earlier than most when it’s gifted, but I hope you will enjoy it anyway. They say it’ll make you feel a lot of side-feelings as well, so watch out for that._

_My gift to you is happiness. Everybody should know what it feels._

_All the love._

Zayn’s hands are shaking by the time he reaches the end of the short, unsigned message. “What the fuck?” he murmurs to himself.

_Happiness? Someone gave me_ happiness _?_

He still can’t believe it when he stares at the small bottle in his hand, and he sees the label scribbled with a black sharpie. ’50 ml of HAPPINESS!!!’, it says.

He feels a stray lingering of the anxiety he just wore off as he kneels on his haunches by the box. No one ever gave him a good feeling, let alone _happiness_. It’s a big one, one of the biggest, and the anonymous person said it’ll last only three weeks, but is it really _only_? Three weeks seem like the longest time in the world for something Zayn has waited his whole fucking life to feel.

His fingers struggle with the hermetic seal on the Emotion Lab bottle until they finally manage to uncork it. Happiness smells like cologne, he thinks. Not his cologne, but maybe an aftershave or something.

When you have to get emotions extracted, it’s a slow process and doctors need to do it with special machines for it.

When you have to implant them, it’s so much easier.

You drink them.

Zayn had promised himself to wait a couple days before meddling with his emotions again, but that was before someone gave him a _good feeling_. Now he wants to implant it right away, right the fuck now, and he knows what the dullness in his stomach is. It’s anticipation, and he’s never felt it so much for anything, not even for any of his concerts. Not even for his first tour about to start.

So Zayn drinks. He swallows down the emotion in two long gulps, and it tastes so fucking sweet, it doesn’t taste like tar or cough syrup or piss.

It’s like someone was holding all his organs in a grip and then suddenly releases them, when the emotion settles in Zayn’s body.

He feels tears swell in his eyes, but they’re not _sad_ tears. Zayn didn’t even know other kinds of tears existed. He laughs, watching Rhino cock his head at him with a small whine, like he doesn’t understand what’s happening to Zayn.

Zayn doesn’t understand it either, to be honest, but what he understands is that he _really_ loves his dog. He can _feel_ it now, deep in his bones, the sense of belonging and of fondness low in his stomach when he looks at Rhino’s big brown eyes.

Zayn cries and hugs Rhino, the empty bottle of happiness falling to the grass of his yard with a dull _thud_ , and Zayn laughs when he thinks that’s the only _dull_ thing he’ll feel for at least three weeks.

 


	2. What does it feel?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You nervous about starting the tour?” Harry asks in a whisper, and then gasps and squeezes his eyes “Sorry, I… I mean…”  
> Zayn understands what he’s thinking, so he tries to smile his best reassuring smile. “Hey, babe, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong” he says “I’m not nervous. But… if I could be, I probably would be”  
> Harry chuckles, a bit awkwardly, and doesn’t reply. They look at each other in the eyes after the in-ear is settled, and Zayn really hasn’t ever noticed just how _green_ Harry’s eyes are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual disclaimer: I don't know or own any of the characters present in this work. I only own the plot and the original characters.

 

 

 

The first thing he does with his happiness is play with Rhino. The dog can feel something’s changed with his human, because he’s extra manic with his frisbee and his squeaky ball, extra dramatic when he falls to catch the toys Zayn throws at him.

Then, Zayn showers. He takes his time to _love_ the feeling of the warm water coaxing the tenseness out of his muscles.

He eats some more Weetabix just to confirm he fucking _loves_ those cereals.

He then calls his mother. Trisha cries a little when Zayn tells her what happened, but it’s okay, because Zayn’s crying a little as well, and apparently so is Yaser next to his mother, although he swears and denies it until the end of time when his wife points it out.

_If you knew what not feeling anything at all feels like, you wouldn’t worry about not being_ manly _, baba_ , Zayn thinks with a smile, even if he doesn’t say it out loud. He’s too happy to care now, to be honest.

It’s only after their phone call that he realizes a couple things.

One, he would very much like to thank his anonymous fan, but he doesn’t even know how to begin looking for them.

Two, the person who gave him happiness is probably the most selfless person ever. Because emotions take time to grow back, and it means that Zayn’s three weeks of happiness have been paid to the price of almost a month of sadness for the person who gave them to Zayn.

 

*

 

Apparently, even good emotions come with small details about the person who extracted them for Zayn.

When Zayn has sadness, he sometimes feels sad about things that honestly can’t be related to his life, like vegetables being expensive. He doesn’t even eat that many vegetables, so the reaction about it must have come from the person who gave him the sadness.

Now, with the happiness, it’s the same. Because Zayn feels incredibly happy about seeing an honest-to-God awful shirt in a window, with airplanes printed over a turquoise background. Zayn would never, _ever in a million years_ wear something like that, so the appreciation and happiness about the shirt has to come from the anonymous donor.

The shirt makes him snort and think about Harry Styles and his hideously coloured and patterned shirts.

Zayn and Harry have probably spoken a total of three words to each other in the last two months since Harry started to work with Zayn’s crew on shows, and Zayn knows it’s mostly due to how bad he is at small talk. Harry’s a sound technician, apparently a very good one if Zayn goes with what Andrew Evans, his brand-new manager, says.

Zayn doesn’t think he’s famous enough to need a manager, but he blesses Andrew for existing anyway, because otherwise he would probably not wake up on time for anything job-related, like, ever. The label probably hired Andrew for that very purpose since Zayn involuntarily ditched one of his very first interviews because he snoozed his alarm ten times more than he was supposed to.

Anyway, Zayn shows up on time for even having lunch with his crew before soundcheck that day, and Andrew gapes at him like he can’t believe Zayn’s there.

Zayn doesn’t expect the sudden burst of affection he feels towards the fifty-year-old man, but it’s unequivocally there, so he has to roll with it. He hugs Andrew. “I am very fond of you, Andrew” he declares “And don’t act so surprised to see me”

Andrew gapes a bit more, and then grabs Zayn by the shoulders to push him back gently and look at him in the eyes. “Zayn?” he asks, tentatively “Are you… are you okay? If you’re on drugs I swear to God…”

Zayn laughs. “I’m not on drugs, Andrew” he retorts, rolling his eyes “I’m… I’m _happy_ ” he adds, with a giggle that would sound stupid even to his own ears, if he really could care.

Andrew gasps. “Did… did someone…”

Zayn nods. “Yeah. A nice pink bottle of happiness. Drunk it yesterday”

Andrew chuckles, and hugs Zayn again. “We were having lunch, join us?” he says, gently leading him towards a table. They’re in a hotel for that day and the next three as well, and Zayn notices his whole crew has taken over half of the dining room. He mentally apologizes to any eventual guest who can’t find a spot.

Zayn smiles at Jennifer, Parker, Kyle, Niall and Harry. They’re all sitting at the same table with Andrew, and there’s a vacant spot in front of Niall, which he takes. “Hello, everyone, how are you doing?”

Niall, an Irish lad with fake blonde hair, barks a laugh. “Am I dreaming? Are you _really_ already here?”

Harry gasps and visibly kicks Niall under the table. “Shut up, he’s gonna fire you”

Zayn grins. He doesn’t even think he actually _has_ the power of firing any of them, but he wouldn’t dream about it even if he could, especially not just for telling the actual, undiscussed truth. “I didn’t feel like sleeping till noon as usual” he tells Niall “Thought I might use a little bit more soundcheck”

“You don’t even _need_ soundcheck” someone replies in a mutter.

It’s Harry Styles, Zayn realizes. He isn’t looking at Zayn, and his face his hidden by a curtain of curls as he stares at his plate and fidgets with his food, like he isn’t hungry.

And well, there are at least four weird things about that whole thing.

One, Harry is always loud. Zayn can sometimes hear him from his dressing room, as he sets up things on stage with Niall and laughs.

Two, Harry always wears his hair in a bun. Now that it’s loose, it looks so soft and silky that Zayn wonders how he didn’t notice that before.

Three, Harry’s always hungry. Zayn has seen him eat banana after banana backstage during soundchecks and show, and almost _inhale_ his lunch when they didn’t have time for an actual meal.

And four, Harry always smiles and looks at people in the eyes. He isn’t looking at Zayn now, and Zayn is sure he isn’t smiling either.

He frowns, at Niall because he’s the only one of them who’s looking at Zayn, but Niall just shrugs and shakes his head, like he wants to tell Zayn _don’t worry, it’s all good, he’ll be fine in a moment._

Zayn shrugs back, and doesn’t talk to Harry for the rest of the lunch. Despite his lack of emotions, he’s very experienced about not feeling good. And when he’s feeling sad or angry, the only thing he wants is to be left alone.

So he leaves Harry alone, even if every now and then he’s still captivated by his hair.

He really didn’t notice that it looked so soft. He kinda wants to drive his fingers through it, but that’s probably only his new-found happiness talking.

 

*

 

“What is _that_?”

Zayn doesn’t even know what Caroline is talking about, but he rolls his eyes anyway when he swirls on the swivel chair to face her. His makeup artist, a nice guy named Gregor, mumbles a curse when the movement makes Zayn’s hair swish away from his comb and brush.

“Sorry, mate” Zayn apologizes, albeit with a grin.

Greg shakes his head. “I really don’t know what’s gotten into you today”

Zayn shrugs. “What’s wrong?” he asks Caroline.

She arches an eyebrow. “That _thing_ on your wrist, Zayn”

Zayn looks down at his hands, and smiles when he sees the red ribbon he tied to his own wrist. “This is coming with me on stage” he announces.

Caroline probably has a stroke, because she shivers bodily and then stands up like a king cobra. “ _What?!_ ” she hisses, affronted.

Zayn shrugs again. “It’s important” he says “I want to keep it”

“What…”

“Somebody gave me happiness, Caro” he interrupts her, more seriously and sternly “This ribbon was tied with the message they left me. I don’t know who they are. So I’ll keep this fucking ribbon where everybody can see it, so the person _knows_ I got their gift”

Silence settles on Caroline and Greg after he says that.

It’s basically public knowledge, that Zayn’s a No-Feeler. It wasn’t a secret even before he set up a public donation box for it. Zayn has never made a mystery out of it, and he couldn’t even if he wanted to, because, well, not having emotions is bound to be something people notice.

It’s not like his crew _talks_ about it, though. Andrew mentions it sometimes when they talk, although always warily and with a grimace even if he knows Zayn won’t, _can’t_ , get angry about it.

When he had received anger, though, Zayn had made a scene about someone mentioning it, and since then, nobody seems inclined to open the topic first, not even Caro, who is a friend more than a colleague, and whose little girl is Zayn’s goddaughter.

He smiles. “It’s all good, Caro” he says “But please, let me keep it? I know it… clashes with my outfit or summat. But it’s really important”

Caroline sighs and then scoffs. “Oh, whatever, keep the bloody red ribbon. You’re so fucking gorgeous that nothing clashes if you wear it anyway”

Greg sighs as well. “He could be even _more_ gorgeous if you two let me finish my fucking job, cheers”

Zayn laughs and turns again to face the mirror on the small dresser in front of him. Greg takes possession of his hair again, combing it backwards and starting to braid it into a fohawk which reaches the back of his neck because of how long his hair has gotten. “Very Viking” Zayn comments with an approving grin, looking at himself in the mirror.

Greg laughs. “Been waiting for ages for your hair to be long enough”

As he keeps admiring Greg’s work in the mirror, he sees Harry behind him, mindlessly re-wrapping some cables but with his eyes trained on Zayn. They make eye contact in the reflection, and Zayn gives him a tentative smile.

Harry smiles back, and it’s a bit weak and a bit fake, but Zayn isn’t picky that day.

“Did you always have green eyes?” Zayn asks.

Nobody replies. Harry is still there, lanky and wearing a shirt with bananas printed all over, and he blinks three times before pointing a finger at himself, making the cable he has propped on his shoulder fall. “Me?” he asks.

Zayn chuckles, and doesn’t turn, keeping looking at Harry in the mirror. Is this what _actually enjoying flirting_ feels like?

He nods. “Yeah, you, Harry”

“You know my name?”

Zayn snorts. “Been working with me for two months, babe. Of course I know your name”

“Oh” Harry replies, and Zayn thinks he blushes a little when he speaks more “Anyway. Yeah, I always had green eyes. That I know of”

“And the dimples as well?” Zayn asks, grinning.

Harry nods. “Yeah. Family trait. Why?”

Zayn shrugs. “Just hadn’t noticed before. Might need to look a bit more”

Harry clears his throat a good three times before muttering something about having to go work and grabbing the cables from the floor, reaching for Niall and almost tripping twice in the loose cords.

Caroline punches Zayn on the shoulder.

“Hey!” Zayn exclaims “What was that for?”

“ _Don’t_ embarrass the poor lad” she hisses “He’s the nicest fucking person I’ve ever worked with”

Zayn pouts. “I thought I was”

“You’re a _nightmare_ ” Caro comments shamelessly “Harry’s nice. Don’t overwhelm him”

“I was just flirting a little bit” Zayn mutters.

Caroline sighs. “Nothing is ‘a little bit’ with Harry, Zayn, you know”

“What do you mean” Zayn asks with a frown.

Greg sighs. “You don’t know?”

“Know what?” Zayn rolls his eyes.

“He’s an All-Feeler, Zayn” Caroline says in a whisper “I never thought it could be a bad thing, ‘cause I never met one before. But it is fucking bad sometimes, innit?”

Greg nods. “Yeah. It’s like, everything’s so _intense_ for him. Even the smallest thing. This morning he was uncontrollably crying about bananas being good” he says with half a smirk.

Zayn knows it’s ridiculous, but he doesn’t find it in his heart to laugh about that. Because he knows what it feels to not feel anything at all, and yet he’s always considered himself lucky that it isn’t the other way round, that at least he’s not going into overdrive every five minutes because he feels too much at the same time.

It must be the same hell Zayn experiences, equal and yet opposite, he thinks as he slowly looks for Harry in the swarming of backstage crew around them. Zayn spots him, next to one of the entrances of the stage, hugging Niall while the Irish lad pats him on the back and tells him something.

Zayn abruptly changes the topic after that, and if Caro and Greg notice, they don’t mention it and play along. Zayn coos over Brooklyn, Caro’s two-year-old daughter and his godchild, when she wakes up from her nap and crawls over to him. “I love you, Brook” he whispers to her as he rocks her back and forth in his arms, making her fly and eliciting small, giggly laughs from her until they call him for soundcheck, and he’s forced to place her again on Caro’s lap.

When he turns to reach the stage entrance, he catches sight of Harry staring at him with half a smile. He tentatively smiles back, and Harry blushes, but doesn’t look away.

Zayn walks over to him, by the console in a corner of the stage. Harry’s become the head of his tech squad, which is impressive, considering that he’s only been hired two months before. He must really be as good as Andrew says.

When Zayn reaches him, Harry is already holding his in-ear monitor and his transmitter. Zayn smiles as Harry fusses over him, placing the transmitter on his lower back, hooked to his belt, and then gently running the cord of the in-ear along his spine, under his shirt, until it comes out from his collar and he can place it in Zayn’s ear. Zayn shivers when Harry’s fingers brush his back.

“You nervous about starting the tour?” Harry asks in a whisper, and then gasps and squeezes his eyes “Sorry, I… I mean…”

Zayn understands what he’s thinking, so he tries to smile his best reassuring smile. “Hey, babe, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong” he says “I’m not nervous. But… if I could be, I probably would be”

Harry chuckles, a bit awkwardly, and doesn’t reply. They look at each other in the eyes after the in-ear is settled, and Zayn really hasn’t ever noticed just how _green_ Harry’s eyes are.

“By the way, _I_ am sorry. For, like, teasing you backstage” Zayn adds then “I… I didn’t really know you were…”

Harry shakes his head, his loose curls bouncing. “It’s okay, it’s like, it’s not a secret or whatever, that I’m an All-Feeler. I’m just… feeling a bit out of sorts today, that’s why I was so awkward about it. Sorry about that”

“Nothing to be sorry for” Zayn assures while Harry averts his eyes and concentrates on the console in front of him “Oh, by the way, congratulations on becoming my head tech” he says with a chuckle “I’m, like, really happy for you”

Harry raises his head from the mixer, abruptly, sending his curls flying again, and gapes a little before answering. “R-Really?”

Zayn smiles. “Yeah, babe, really” he says, raising his wrist to show Harry the red ribbon “You heard me talk to Caro and Greg, didn’t you? Someone gave me happiness. So I’m _really_ happy for you”

Harry doesn’t reply. He just sighs a little, staring at Zayn with a small smile, like he’s still sad from whatever happened to him earlier but also happy for Zayn as well.

“Thanks” Harry says after a moment, and then clears his throat “Do you… wanna start by trying the in-ear and transmitter?” he asks, handing Zayn his mic.

Zayn nods, feeling a jitteriness for the show he’s never experienced before. He’s had nerves for shows, _bad_ nerves, but never the _good_ ones Louis and Liam always talk about.

Now he understands. It’s a happy jitteriness, like he’s nervous about singing and going on tour but he also doesn’t want to be anywhere else, doesn’t want to _do_ anything else.

Harry wears a pair of headphones. “Sing whatever” he tells Zayn “It’s better if there are high notes”

“It’s always better when I sing high notes” Zayn replies with a wink, not being able to help it.

Harry chuckles, his cheeks going a lovely pink, and Zayn decides to try out _It’s You._

It weirdly feels like he and Harry are alone on the stage, while Zayn stands right in front of him, singing without any music into his mic for Harry to listen to him through his headphones. It’s like Zayn’s singing into his ear, he supposes. There’s something a bit erotic about it, Zayn thinks as he keeps singing and looks at how Harry’s long fingers move over the mixer, raising and lowering bars and pressing buttons until he’s nodding to himself, his lips mouthing the song like he’s _enjoying_ it as well as working with it.

Harry’s fucking gorgeous, Zayn realizes as they keep being in their weird soundcheck bubble. He never realized before, probably because he hasn’t even _tried_ to look at anyone that way in months, not since he broke up with Ben and then realized that one-night stands leave him even emptier than before, because physical pleasure is _not enough_ , not anymore.

He can’t help realizing it now, though, as he looks at Harry with happiness in his system. Harry’s lean, with broad shoulders tightening his questionable shirt, and long legs wrapped in skinny jeans that put Zayn’s own to fucking shame for how tight they are.

Harry notices Zayn’s staring, after a while, because he smiles a little bit more, although not enough to make his dimples fully dig in his cheeks, and holds his gaze while Zayn sings some more. Harry stops him when he’s done doing whatever it is he does on the mixer, and nods. “All done” he declares “Now go have a proper soundcheck with the actual band, although I meant what I said at lunch”

Zayn grins. “What?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “That you don’t even need soundcheck” he says “You’re just too damn good. Now go, before this grin becomes your permanent expression and your face freezes”

Zayn laughs. It’s a bit unexpected, the laugh, because he hasn’t laughed that much in his life. Harry is startled as well as he gapes a little at Zayn, but then schools his features back into neutrality, and kicks Zayn away from his booth.

Zayn does keep the grin for the next hours anyway.

 

*

 

The show has been a good one. Zayn rarely enjoys the screaming crowds, partly because he can’t, and partly because after the anxiety bottle he now knows that the dullness he feels is supposed to be a bad feeling.

This time, though, it’s been good. Zayn is still far from filling real arenas, but the show in the relatively small venue had been a sold out, and he honestly can’t believe all those people gathered to look at _him_.

He knows that most of the reasons the show’s been great is Harry. Harry has been there all the time, in his console, making Zayn’s music resound in the venue with a flick of his long fingers over the mixer, and granting Zayn the best concert possible, with a smile on his lips for the whole time.

Harry has still looked a bit sad throughout the show, though. Zayn has eyed him more than he cares to really admit, and every time he’s seen Harry frown or his lips turn downwards, Zayn has felt his own gifted happiness dampen a little bit. So he’s been quick to prance backwards, to the end of the stage, so that he could pull a silly face at Harry and make him chuckle.

They haven’t had time to even talk to each other after the show, because Zayn has been pulled and shoved into the line in the middle of the crowd right away. For the first time, though, he feels the dullness of his phantom anxiety together with the giddiness of having actual fans who scream at him and cry when he smiles at them.

He makes quick work of signing albums and posters and even takes some quick selfies with a couple of people before his two bodyguards and Andrew push him away, to the car.

Zayn doesn’t like being manhandled like that, but he thinks it’s a necessary evil.

Once he’s in the car and the noises and screams from the outside are tuned down, he realizes he wants to speak to Harry again.

“Is… is the rest of the crew staying at our same hotel?” he asks Andrew, going for a casual tone.

Andrew knows Zayn better than Zayn realized, though, because he arches an eyebrow and sends Zayn a glance that says _you’re not fooling me_ before replying. “Yes, Zayn, they’ve all gone there as soon as we finished packing up the stage”

Zayn chuckles and nods. “Okay. Just wanted to thank them for a job well done ‘s all”

Andrew’s eyebrow looks permanently glued to his forehead. “That’s very kind of you” he says, sarcastically, but with a grin.

Zayn ignores him with another chuckle, and he feels the giddiness gradually return the closer they get to the hotel. He wonders if Harry’s still around or if he’s already gone to bed. Zayn just really wants to thank him is all.

Harry’s not around when Zayn finally gets inside the hotel after getting out of the car and being blinded by flashes. He knew the start of a small, UK tour was bound to bring more pap attention to him, but he didn’t think it would start already on the first date. He waves politely at them, but he’s glad when he finally gets to safety beyond the hotel gates, through which paps can’t follow him.

Harry’s not around, but Niall is. He’s having drinks by the bar of the hotel, which closes in an hour or so says the sign at the entrance.

Niall waves energetically at Zayn when he spots him, and gestures for him to join him with a barking laugh. “Come have drinks with us!” he screams, pointing at a full drink next to his.

Zayn chuckles. “Us? Niall, you’re alone, how drunk are you?”

Niall laughs again. “There’s no such thing as drunk for an Irish lad, my friend” he states “I’m not alone, Haz’s about to come down, he just wanted to change first. No point in that to be honest, there’s no one around anyway” he gestures widely with his arms to encompass the whole room, empty if not for Niall, Zayn and a very tired-looking bartender. “But you know Haz. Every occasion is good to show off his horrible shirts”

“Heeey”

The slow drawl Zayn has learned to recognize as Harry’s voice announces his presence behind them, and Zayn turns, his heart beating a bit too loud for its own good, and well.

Niall might not see the point of Harry changing, but Zayn is decidedly a fan of that.

Harry’s hair is loose, like it was that afternoon before he tied it in a bun halfway through the show when it started to get in his way. Zayn notices again how silky it looks, and again doesn’t understand the sudden urge of touching it, driving his fingers through it and scratching at Harry’s scalp to see if he would sigh, if his eyelids would flutter.

Harry’s wearing black skinnies and a sheer shirt with a flashy leopard print in shades of brown, and Zayn would think Harry went out in a rush if he didn’t know it’s just Harry’s default way, not to button his shirts all the way.

Zayn suddenly feels very gross, because he hasn’t had time to change let alone shower, so he must stink something awful right now, but Harry doesn’t seem to be bothered as he smiles at him and before Zayn can process anything he’s being wrapped in a hug. Harry’s cologne hits his nostrils, and Zayn really likes it, makes a mental note of asking Harry where he’s bought it, it’s so nice.

He doesn’t know what’s happening to him since he’s spoken to Harry after getting the bottled happiness. Or better, maybe Zayn does know, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with it for now.

“Alright, babe?” he asks Harry, sees him blush a little at the pet name just has it happened during the afternoon “Just wanted to say good job tonight. It was amazing”

Harry smiles, a bit more brightly, something closer to the smiles Zayn has always seen him give out like candy to anyone coming his way. “Were you happy about the show?” Harry asks, and his eyes are boring into Zayn’s like the question is not circumstantial, but a _real_ question for him.

Zayn smiles and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, Haz. I really was” he says, honestly for maybe the first time ever, and he feels it deep in his stomach, just how happy he is thanks to the unknown person who gave up their own happiness for him to be alright even just once. “I’ll… leave you to your drinks then?” he tries, although he really doesn’t want to leave.

Harry opens his mouth, but Niall’s quicker. “Nonsense” he exclaims “I meant it, just join us! I’m tired of only getting drinks with Harry and Andrew’s ugly mug, yours is so much prettier”

Harry laughs, a bit nervously about Niall’s blatant statement, probably, and Zayn laughs too, whole-heartedly. “Okay, yeah, could do” he concedes.

Harry smiles again.

 

*

 

Harry and Niall are fun.

Zayn is horribly regretting never actually talking to them before, because they’re great. Niall laughs more than he talks, and Zayn has never been good in the laughing department, so he could use someone like Niall in his life. He also thinks those two would be great friends with Liam and Louis, given the chance.

And Harry. Well, Harry.

Harry is hands-down the sweetest person Zayn’s ever met, and it nags at Zayn that he doesn’t know why Harry seems to be in such a sad mood most of the time. Zayn has never _observed_ Harry that much, but one thing he knows. Harry’s always in a great mood. Something seems to be bothering him now, though, and even if he laughs and smiles all the same, Zayn can tell the difference.

Niall is attentively watching Harry in-between laughs, too. They’re best friends and roommates, Zayn has learned in the past hour, so he probably knows what’s wrong with Harry.

Zayn is really about to ask, but he doesn’t, because right that moment Doniya makes Zayn’s phone buzz with a video-call.

Zayn is still learning how to handle his happiness, and he can’t contain the sudden burst of love and affection pooling low in his stomach when he sees Doniya’s contact photo flash on his screen. She’s smiling widely, her huge baby bump clearly visible under her dress.

“Sorry lads, sis’s calling, I gotta take this” he excuses himself, patting Harry on the shoulder as he slips out of his seat and out the back entrance of the hotel, where he knows nobody can see him even if he’s outside in the yard.

He answers the call, a bit worried about Doniya calling him so late, and frowning at the weird feeling of anticipation in his limbs.

He’s right to be nervous, though, because as soon as he sits on a bench and _sees_ why Doniya is calling him, tears pool in Zayn’s eyes.

Doniya gave birth. She’s there, smiling widely at Zayn through their phones, her hair matted with sweat and a small, _so small_ , baby boy cooing in the crook of her arm. “Hi, uncle Zayn, this is your nephew Hakim” she says.

Zayn bursts into tears. He tries to stop himself, he really does, but he feels suddenly so overwhelmed and _happy_ , happy that he’s an uncle and Doniya’s baby boy is fine, happy that the unknown person chose _that week_ to give him the happiness, happy that they made it so that Zayn could be happy about one of the most important events in his life.

“Oh, Zee, don’t cry” Doniya coos gently, but she’s crying too.

Zayn laughs. “I’m so happy, Doni” he murmurs, trying to wipe the tears from his face with one hand while he holds his phone with the other “Is he… is he fine? Are you fine?”

“We’re both okay, lil’ bro” she answers “I just wanted to tell you as soon as I could. Mum and baba just went home. Iman _fainted_ ” she giggles “He saw our son come out and straight up went to the ground”

Zayn laughs harder. “I’ll take the piss on him for the rest of our lives”

“Please do” Doniya giggles again, and then sniffles “I’m glad you can _feel_ this, Zayn” she says, more quietly “I’m glad that person gave you the chance”

Zayn nods. “I wish I could come there as well”

Doni shakes her head. “You just started a tour. It’s fine, lil’ bro. Hakim’s still gonna be here next month when you come back. I’ll call you again and send you loads of pictures. You just go be famous and make us all proud” she tells Zayn with a smile “Now I gotta go. The nurse told me to get some rest, she’s a pain in the arse. I love you, baby brother”

Zayn smiles. “I love you too, big sis. Give Hakim a kiss from me”

Doniya nods, and they end the call still smiling widely.

True to her word, as soon as they stop talking, his sister sends him five pictures of the baby, and Zayn starts crying all over again when he opens them.

“Zayn?” a worried voice behind him calls him.

Zayn sniffles and turns, already recognizing the person. It’s Harry, standing some feet away from the bench where Zayn’s sitting. Harry’s frowning, probably wondering why the fuck Zayn is there in the dark, crying, but Zayn just smiles.

“Are you okay?” Harry takes a couple steps.

Zayn nods. “My… my sister had a baby” he says, not able to keep it for himself “He’s so small, Haz”

Harry sighs, like he’s relieved Zayn’s tears are happy tears, and covers the distance between them in three long strides of his perfect legs that Zayn’s not looking at.

Harry sits next to Zayn on the bench, and Zayn immediately shoves his phone Harry’s way, showing him the pictures.

Harry gasps and coos over the pictures. “Oh my God he’s so _cute_ ” he says “What’s… what’s his name?”

“Hakim” Zayn grins.

Harry smiles. “It’s a wonderful name. Congratulations, Zayn, really. I’m… I’m happy for you and your family” he says, his smile carving a small hole in Zayn’s heart because Zayn is happy, he really is, but he can _feel_ the underlying sadness in Harry’s tone like it’s his own.

“I wish I could go see them” Zayn says, a bit pathetically if he’s honest, not that he really cares.

Harry blinks. “Where are they?”

“Bradford. My hometown”

Harry nods and sighs before replying. “Well then, let’s go”

Zayn snorts a laugh, but when Harry just keeps staring at him he realizes Harry’s actually serious. “Haz, it’s like, two hours from here”

Harry shrugs. “We have soundcheck at 6 p.m. for the show tomorrow. We can go, you can be with your family, and then we can come back before Andrew has time to throw a full-on strop” he declares with a grin that loosens Zayn’s heart a little bit “Are you willing to lose some of your precious sleep to meet your nephew?”

Zayn laughs. “How are we gonna go? My car’s in my garage in London”

Harry sighs and stands up. “Lucky for you, we mortals came here with our own cars and not with a tour bus” he states, stretching a hand out for Zayn “Let’s go, Zayn. This is important, and I’ll be damned if I don’t help you take full advantage of your new-found happiness”

Zayn can do nothing but smile as he takes Harry’s hand.

He feels like a teenager sneaking out to go to a party as they quietly circle the hotel until they reach the garage. Zayn giggles, an honest-to-God _giggle_ , and Harry chuckles when he opens his car, sending Zayn an amused look when they both slide in. “Andrew’s gonna kill me” Zayn declares with a grin.

Harry laughs. “It’s gonna be fine. It’s your world, we’re just living in it” he says, and starts the car while Zayn types the address of the Bradford hospital in his phone, starting the GPS. “Hello, Zayn, love” a sultry female voice announces “Please be a doll and turn right”

Harry barks a laugh. Zayn laughs too, quickly re-setting the voice to the normal one. “Sorry” he tells Harry “Louis likes to pull this kind of shit”

Harry regains his breath. “He’s hilarious, I won’t lie”

“You’d be good friends then, since apparently you’re the only two people who find him funny” Zayn retorts, albeit with another grin.

They talk a lot during the drive. Zayn doesn’t feel tired at all, despite how little sleep he got the night before, despite the whole show, despite it being already almost four in the morning.

Harry tells him about how he met Niall, during their sound tech classes, when Niall made a speaker explode and Harry helped him fix it before their teachers came into the lab. Zayn tells Harry about Louis and Liam, how he met them when they snuck into his album release party because they thought he was cool and they were offended he didn’t invite them (Zayn didn’t even know them at the time).

They talk about their families, the undying love they feel for them, and Zayn tells Harry how much he loathes knowing that he loves his family, but not being able to _actually_ feel it. It makes Harry sad, Zayn thinks, because Harry’s keeping his eyes on the road, but Zayn has learned to recognize the small frown etched on his forehead. So Zayn quickly amends it by telling Harry how _happy_ he is that now he knows what it feels, to really love his family.

Harry smiles a bit more after that, so it’s okay.

They keep quiet for a while after that, and Zayn thinks it’s crazy that it took him a whole year to talk about his lack of feelings with Louis and Liam, while it’s taken him mere hours to tell Harry.

Harry just has _something_ , something that draws Zayn, and although Zayn knows he’s never been able to feel it before, he also knows that it isn’t something he would just feel with anybody, given the chance.

He does have the chance now, though, and he thinks he’s been pretty clear with Harry as to how he finds him attractive. Harry could have gone for it right about the fifth time Zayn has complimented his hair, eyes and dimples.

Instead, Harry is taking Zayn to see his sister.

“You’re something else, ain’t you” Zayn says, and he doesn’t mean to, but it crawls out of his mouth like he’s lost the ability of controlling himself.

Harry hums. “What do you mean?”

Zayn shrugs. He doesn’t have the words, and he feels a ton of different, foreign things in his stomach in that moment. The anonymous message warned him about side-feelings, but he didn’t expect not to even _recognize_ them.

So he doesn’t answer, and asks Harry a question instead. “What does it feel? Being… being an All-Feeler?”

Harry chuckles. “It’s overwhelming” he answers after a moment “So much that sometimes I feel like I’m a bit fucked in the head. I’ve had to be in therapy for years because of it”

Zayn’s stomach churns. “Really?”

Harry nods. “Yeah. It’s like, sometimes I see a dog, right? And I’ll feel happy because he’s wagging his tail happily, and I’ll feel sad because I really want a dog but I don’t have space at my place, and I’ll be worried about if his owner treats him right, and I’ll be scared the leash is gonna snap and he’s gonna run in the middle of the street and be run over by a car”

Zayn’s heart is thumping unevenly. He can’t even _imagine_ feeling all those things, let alone all _at once_. “That… that’s a lot of feelings”

“Yeah” Harry chuckles “That’s why I needed therapy, like, during my teenage years. Sometimes I felt like I couldn’t handle it, like even something small was gonna give me depression or anxiety. It was like I had a little bit of each mental illness. But I learned how to control it, so I’m okay now”

Zayn lowers his gaze to his wrist, where the red ribbon still sits. “You look a bit sad, to be honest”

Harry sighs. “I’ve been… a bit down, lately. But it’s okay. It’ll pass” he smiles, and Zayn knows it’s an honest smile, so he chooses to believe Harry.

“I don’t know how long _this_ side of me will last” Zayn tells him “But if you ever feel like you need some help, I’ll do what I can to provide it to you”

Harry chuckles. “It’s very nice of you to worry about your employees”

The comment stirs something in Zayn’s stomach. It’s like someone is rearranging his insides, and there’s a dullness underneath, like he’s supposed to feel something he doesn’t have. Zayn knows what it is. It’s disappointment and hurt.

His hand grabs Harry’s knee before he can actually decide. “This is not Zayn Malik worrying about an employee” he says, looking at Harry even if he’s still keeping his eyes on the road “This is Zayn worrying about a _friend_. If you’ll have me”

Harry smiles, and turns to look at him in the eyes for a quick moment. “Yeah. Yeah, Zayn. Thanks. I’ll have you”

“Good” Zayn grins.

Harry grins too, and turns again to look in front of him. “We’re almost there” he says “I can see the signs to the hospital”

 

*

 

Zayn learns the full power of Harry Styles’s Dimples twenty minutes later, when it’s barely six a.m. and the receptionist at the hospital of course doesn’t want to let them in until visiting hours start, which is gonna be four hours later.

Zayn is honestly not opposed to begging. He and Harry didn’t really think this through, and petty things like visiting hours escaped their attention, but now that he’s in Bradford, he wants to see his sister and the baby right the fuck now.

Harry gently grabs him by an elbow, and then smiles harmlessly at the nurse. “We completely understand, miss…”

“Lindsay Jackson” the receptionist says from behind her desk, with an arched eyebrow.

“Miss Jackson” Harry nods, smiling more “We do understand, but the thing is that we drove here for two hours, and we came this early to avoid you trouble”

“Trouble?” Lindsay frowns.

Harry nods again. “Yes. See, my client here is from around here, but he’s a famous singer now, I’m his manager. And coming here during visiting hours would have caused a giant ruckus, and we didn’t want that”

Lindsay stares at Zayn. “I _knew_ you looked familiar” she mutters “Yeah, we don’t want any ruckus”

“Of course” Harry still smiles, and Zayn is a bit mesmerized by him. A brief glance and Lindsay tells him she’s about to share his sentiment. “So we thought to come when nobody is around. Please, miss Jackson. You’re not gonna deny him meeting his nephew, aren’t you? He’s gonna be on tour for the next _ten months_ , the kids is gonna be already one year old by the time he sees him again”

That’s a blatant lie, because Zayn’s tour is gonna last a month, not a _year_. But Harry’s dimples and wide eyes break Lindsay’s heart, Zayn can see it in the way her own blue eyes widen. She stares at the two of them for a moment, and then sighs. “Oh, Jesus, okay” she says, scribbling something on two blank badges tied to two black cords, and then hands them over. The badges say _Special Visitor 6:00–9:00_. “Three hours” Lindsay says “That’s all I can do, really”

Zayn grins. “It’s more than enough. Thanks, miss Jackson, you’re a fucking angel”

Harry elbows him, but he’s grinning as well. “Language” he hisses.

Lindsay snorts and rolls her eyes. “Second floor, room 13. Congrats” she says, unimpressed, but smiling.

Harry politely shakes her hand and then pulls Zayn up the stairs. Zayn’s stomach is turning and turning, anticipation making him slightly nauseous and his limbs shake. “Jesus, being happy is exhausting” he comments “My manager? Andrew would be offended”

Harry laughs as they climb the stairs two at a time. “Well, being like ‘I’m his head tech’ wouldn’t have had the same power, would it?”

Zayn shrugs. “With those dimples, you could have been my nanny and she’d have said yes anyway”

Harry blushes, but he doesn’t reply because right then they reach the door labelled 13.

Zayn sighs, and his hand finds Harry’s by sheer reflex. Harry lets him join their fingers for a moment, but then shakes his head and removes his hand from Zayn’s. “You should go in there alone. Your sister’s probably asleep and tired, might not be a good idea to shove a stranger her way at six in the bloody morning” he says “I’ll be here” he points at the chairs lined along the corridor wall.

Zayn feels a small panic rise in his throat at the thought of being separated from Harry. It’s stupid, because he’s lived his whole life without Harry, it’s probably just his fucking emotions being so weird, and yet he doesn’t want to go against them, not now that he’s finally feeling the good ones.

“I’ll go in there alone” he concedes “But then after I talk to my sister, you’re gonna fucking meet the baby as well, Harry Styles”

Harry smiles. “I do love babies” he says.

“Good” Zayn grins, and quietly knocks on Doni’s door before opening it and stepping inside the room.

Doniya isn’t asleep. She’s laughing at something on her phone, sitting on the bed with her back propped against some pillows, and the light of dawn breaking through the window underlines the heavy bags under her eyes. She’s never looked more beautiful though.

She raises her head from her phone, and gasps. “Zayn?!” she hisses.

Zayn smiles. “Hey, mum”

Doni grunts a colourful swear in Urdu and rustles to get out of bed, but Zayn is quick to cover the distance between them raising his hands to stop her. “No no no” he says “Stay in bed, I’m here, I’m here”

Doniya hugs him as he leans over her to properly wrap her in his arms. “Fuck I was already missing you” she murmurs “What are you _doing_ here?”

Zayn grins. “A friend of mine drove me. I wanted to meet Hakim”

Doniya smiles and removes herself from Zayn’s hug to gesture at the side of her bed.

Zayn hadn’t even noticed the small hospital crib by Doni’s side. Hakim, his _nephew_ , is peacefully sleeping inside of it, his small hands closed into the tiniest fists Zayn’s ever seen, his head covered in pitch black hair just like everyone in Zayn’s family.

Zayn cries. He bursts into tears, not even ashamed of doing so, and slowly reaches the crib to kneel in front of it and stare at the small child inside it. “Hello” he tells Hakim, blinking furiously to get rid of the tears clouding his vision.

Hakim coos and blinks as well. Zayn knows he’s too small to see anything, but his clear eyes are still staring at Zayn, and Zayn loves him, with an intensity that he’s never felt before, something that makes his chest constrict and expand at the same time.

“Come here, you” Doni says, and leans over the crib to pick up the baby.

Hakim doesn’t cry, he just coos again as Doni lifts him and settles him against her chest. She then looks at Zayn and smiles. “Do you wanna hold him?”

Zayn shakes his head. “I’ll drop him, Doni”

“No you won’t” she reassures him, slowly handing him Hakim.

Zayn sighs, and his heart threatens to jump out of his chest as he takes the baby from her arms, dreading the moment he’ll start crying.

Hakim doesn’t. He snuffles a little and then pushes his small face against Zayn’s chest, closing his eyes.

Zayn only cries harder, and when Doni notices, so does she, staring at Zayn like it’s the first time she sees him.

It probably is, Zayn reckons.

Zayn doesn’t know how much time he spends sitting next to Doni, with her baby in his arms. He only stops staring at Hakim when Doniya clears her throat, arching an eyebrow at him. “So, this _friend_ of yours who drove you to this godforsaken town in the middle of the night” she says.

Zayn nods. “His name’s Harry” he says “He’s my head tech”

“A _co-worker_ drove you here?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “Yeah, he’s my co-worker, but he’s also a friend. He’s right outside the room”

Doniya makes an affronted sound. “What the fuck? Bring him in then. Drove you all the way at four in the bloody morning, he might as well see what the fuss was all about”

Zayn chuckles a little about his sister’s bossy behaviour, but he carefully and slowly hands the baby back to her before opening the door and peeking outside.

Harry’s there, sitting on a chair just like he said he would be, and he’s holding a bunch of very colourful flowers. “Haz?” Zayn asks, not being able to hold back another chuckle.

Harry stands up. “I, um, bought these. For your sister” he says, gesturing at the flowers.

Zayn smiles. “Come in, babe, Doni wants to meet you”

Harry follows him inside the room and then politely introduces himself to Doniya while she thanks him for the flowers and Zayn takes care of putting them in an empty vase on her nightstand.

Harry gapes when he sees Hakim. His eyes grow huge in his face, and he kneels by the crib much like Zayn himself has done, staring at the baby with quivering lips and his long fingers touching the side of the crib.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Zayn smiles “Babies”

Harry nods and chuckles, sniffling and hiding his face from Zayn and Doniya. “Yeah” he says with his voice shaking “Pretty cool”

 

*

 

Zayn would much rather stay there with Doniya and Hakim for the rest of his life, but they don’t want to test Lindsay Jackson’s patience anymore after she helped them, so at ten to nine he forces himself to say bye to his sister and nephew, and they go away.

Zayn offers to drive for the ride back, and Harry agrees with a yawn, flinging the keys at Zayn with a very poorly aimed throw. Zayn misses the keys, and Harry laughs as he settles in the passenger seat.

Despite the extremely hot and strong coffee they got before leaving, Zayn starts to feel his eyes droop too much after barely one hour of driving. He tries his best to stay awake, but it’s getting harder and harder as he slowly unwinds and the hectic past twenty-four hours catch up with him.

“Zayn, Zayn, let me drive” Harry says after a moment, shaking him by the shoulder.

Zayn looks at Harry, and he looks just as tired as Zayn himself feels, so he shakes his head and takes a decision, parking in the lot of a small motel they’re conveniently just passing by. “We need to sleep” he decides, turning the engine off.

Harry doesn’t disagree, but he tries to hum a protest anyway, which is interrupted by a yawn.

“We’re gonna take a quick nap here” Zayn declares, opening the door of the car “It’s still only ten. I sent Andrew a text to tell him where I am, I’ll send him another one to tell him we both need to sleep and he can’t do shit about it”

Harry stretches when he gets out of the car as well. “What a rebel you are” he grins, squinting in the sun.

Zayn flips him off as they reach the reception, and Harry just laughs, flipping him off right back.

Zayn shakes his head, and the huge problem of his masterplan presents itself as soon as they greet the receptionist.

“We only have one room left, I’m afraid” he says.

Zayn has to fight himself with all he has not to turn a dark shade of red. That’s another thing he’s never felt. Embarrassment. It’s shit, he doesn’t even know why it would come with _happiness_. “Oh” he says dumbly “Well, then, um, I…”

“It’s fine” Harry says with a sigh “We only need it for three or four hours anyway. Is it a single or a double?”

“We only have single rooms. But the bed is queen sized”

_Wonderful_ , Zayn thinks. How’s he gonna deal with this, sharing a _bed_ with Harry, when his brand new fucking emotions are in turmoil for much less than _that_?

Harry doesn’t seem to be bothered, and he looks so fucking tired Zayn doesn’t even try to protest. “Then it’s fine” Harry says.

“You have to book it for the whole day no matter if you just spend a few hours in it. We don’t book hours” the bored receptionist tells them with a once-over at the two of them.

Zayn knows how it looks, two young men suddenly needing a room in a motel in the middle of nowhere, but he can’t be arsed to care. Besides, the receptionist doesn’t seem to have any clue as to who Zayn is, which is good.

“It’s okay” Zayn says.

Harry takes out his wallet, but Zayn will be damned if he’ll let him pay for a shitty, shared room they need so that they won’t fall asleep at the wheel and die. So he gently pushes Harry’s hand with the wallet down, and gives his card to the guy behind the desk.

The ridiculously low price makes Zayn dread the state in which they’ll find the room, and it also makes him absurdly think of Bates Motel. He takes the card back, together with a receipt printed by an old cash register, and the receptionist hands them a key as well.

“Under the porch in front of the parking lot right outside, room 21, if you’re not out by ten tomorrow morning you’ll be charged for another day” he tells them, monotone.

Harry grabs the keys and sighs. “We’ll be out in the afternoon today, cheers” he says.

They go out and walk under the porch like the guy told them until they reach the wooden door of room 21. “I swear to God if we’re about to be killed by Norman Bates I’ll haunt the shit out of this shithole” Harry mutters.

Zayn snorts. “Norman Bates only killed women, though”

Harry waves in a gesture that means _shut the fuck up Zayn_ and they open the door, grimacing before even looking at the room.

It’s actually not super bad, when they do look. It’s small, with an armchair full of holes in a corner, next to another door which probably leads to the bathroom. The bed looks pristine and clean, though, when they carefully lift the duvet like they’re scared rats are gonna come from under it.

There are no rats and no suspicious-looking stains, and they both sigh in relief, which in turn makes them laugh. “You can shower first if you want” Zayn tells Harry.

Harry nods. “Cheers, I’ll be quick so that you can shower too”

“Yeah, thanks. I must stink”

Harry shakes his head as he goes to the bathroom. “Nah, you smell alright. Very Zayn” he says mysteriously, before disappearing in the bathroom with a chuckle.

Zayn texts Andrew while Harry showers. He receives a string of dots, paired with a _I’m gonna fucking kill you Z_ , and he apologizes even adding a heart emoji, to which Andrew replies with a middle finger emoji and the order to call him if he needs someone to go pick them up, _and don’t be late or I’ll kill you._ Zayn laughs, because he never realized it, but apparently he fucking loves his manager a little too.

They don’t even have a change of clothes, it’s not like they planned _anything_ before leaving, so Zayn isn’t surprised when Harry comes out of the bathroom with damp hair and only his jeans on. He places the leopard printed shirt on the armchair, smoothing the crinkles, and Zayn isn’t surprised that he’s bare-chested, but that doesn’t mean he’s _prepared_.

Harry has tattoos. Zayn already spotted them from under his sheer shirts, but it’s the first time he’s got a clear visual of them. Apart from the ones scattered on his arm, he has swallows on his collarbones, a moth on his stomach and laurel leaves running along his hips.

Zayn gulps down some air, finding himself already half hard at the sight, and curses himself as he dumbly smiles at Harry and quickly goes to the bathroom.

The shower is absurdly small and the curtain has two holes in it, but Zayn doesn’t really mind as he quickly strips off and finally lets the warm water wash away the stickiness of the show and all that followed it. Miraculously, there’s a half-empty bottle of shower gel which smells like peaches, and Zayn uses it generously to make up for the lack of deodorant he’ll have to face afterwards. He un-braids his hair, wincing a little at the pain in his scalp after having it tied for such a long time.

The fact that Harry is just a door away, half naked and about to share a bed with Zayn takes its toll on him, and he’s feeling too hot and bothered for his own good, with his erection showing no signs of going away any time soon.

Sealing his lips as tight as he can to make sure not even the smallest sound leaves his mouth, Zayn slowly wraps a hand around himself, the glide made easier and better by the shower gel. He’s rock-hard just after a few strokes, and he wonders how Harry would do that to him, if he’d be rough or gentle or both if he ran his long fingers up and down Zayn’s dick.

Zayn has had nothing but his own hand since his last one-night stand, which dates to almost a six months earlier, so the mere fact that Harry’s there, so close, gets him off at record speed, so quick he’d probably be embarrassed about it if he wasn’t alone in that shower.

He comes muffling a grunt with a cough, spilling over his hand and the shower tiles, which he then washes clean to be sure Harry won’t notice a single thing afterwards.

He laughs at himself, about how he’s really feeling like a teenager with a crush, and steps out of the shower, drying his body and most of his hair with a clean towel he finds hung by the sink.

He follows Harry’s example and wears his jeans again. There’s a tube of toothpaste on the sink, and he spurts a little bit of it on his pointer finger, brushing his teeth with it as best as he can before going out of the bathroom and placing his shirt next to Harry’s on the armchair. His heart does some weird shit in his chest when he notices Harry’s jeans are also there, now. Zayn turns to the bed.

Harry is already under the duvet, his back turned to Zayn and his bare, tattooed shoulder peeking out from under the covers. It’s not even eleven a.m., but the curtains are drawn, so the room is almost completely dark despite the sun shining outside.

It’s right about then that Zayn hears Harry sniffle. He cautiously reaches the bed, and once he does, he sees Harry’s shoulder shake and realizes Harry’s not just sniffling, he’s full-blown crying, and Zayn doesn’t know what to do.

He slides under the duvet after removing his own jeans and chucking them on the armchair. He lays down on his back, and leaves Harry alone until it’s clear that he isn’t stopping crying.

Zayn still has his happiness, but he realizes Harry being sad dims it, makes the dullness in his stomach increase with a sadness of his own that he can’t feel at the moment.

“Harry?” he tries, whispers it.

Harry sniffles. “Your nephew is so small” he says.

Zayn nods. “He is”

“I’m sorry” Harry sighs, a teary breath Zayn can’t see leave his mouth because Harry’s still giving him his back “I must look proper crazy, crying over someone’s baby” he adds with a bitter chuckle.

“Look at me?” Zayn asks.

Harry does. He slowly turns to lay on his other side. His green eyes are puffy and his face is wet with tears, his cheeks and nose red as he blinks at Zayn. Zayn smiles. “It’s not crazy to feel stuff” he tells Harry as seriously as he can “I’ve been wanting to feel stuff my whole life, Haz”

Harry’s eyes wander over Zayn’s face before he answers. “What does it feel, Zayn? Being a No-Feeler?” he asks, mirroring the question Zayn’s asked him in the car, hours earlier.

“Like everything’s dull, babe” Zayn says honestly “Like my brain knows I should feel stuff, but I can’t, so it makes me feel a dullness, an emptiness, where my real emotion should be”

Harry nods. “Are you happy now, though? Now that someone gave you happiness?”

Zayn nods too. “I am, babe” he tells Harry “It’s like… I’ve never felt anything even remotely _good_ before, you know? It’s… it’s amazing, really”

“I know” Harry answers “I mean, I know we never really talked before, but I work with you, so I watched you. And whenever I could see that you were feeling something… it never looked like something pleasant”

Zayn sighs. “People don’t really understand why I take the emotions even if they’re bad, but…”

“But it’s pretty clear, isn’t it?” Harry’s eyes widen “It’s like… even bad emotions are better than nothing at all”

Zayn chuckles. “You might be the first person to actually understand it, you know”

Harry shrugs. He’s stopped crying, which Zayn counts as a victory. “My emotions are too much and fuck with my head. But… I’d never exchange them with not being able to feel anything at all. No offence, of course”

Zayn smiles. “None taken, babe” he says, sincerely “I’m not sure I could handle what _you_ feel, but I get your point. We should sleep now, yeah?”

Harry nods. “I set an alarm for three p.m. so we can drive back and you’ll have time to get properly ready before soundcheck”

Zayn smiles some more. “Cheers, babe. Goodnight then”

Harry smiles too, his dimples doing _things_ to Zayn’s stomach. “Goodnight, Zayn” he says, and turns around to give his back to Zayn again. “Zayn?”

Zayn chuckles. “Harry?”

Harry chuckles too. “I’m glad you’re feeling good things for once” he says “We should do something with it. Make you _enjoy_ stuff now that you can”

Zayn laughs. “You’re my manager, babe” he replies “You can decide whatever I’m gonna do”

“Shut up, Zayn, or next time I’m really gonna say I’m your nanny”

 

*

 

Zayn wakes up before Harry’s alarm goes off, but he can’t be bothered to care about it, because he has more pressing matters to think about.

Like the fact that during their nap Harry somehow turned and plastered himself to Zayn, his face pressed against Zayn’s chest and their legs slotted together.

Zayn feels Harry’s bare skin against his, warm and soft and crumpled with sleep, and his own arms have wrapped around Harry’s lanky frame.

He stays very still to try and calm his heart down, because he’s afraid it’s beating so loud it’ll wake Harry up. Harry doesn’t smell like his cologne anymore, a scent that Zayn already associates to him and him alone, but Zayn thinks this is the nicest thing he’s felt in his whole life anyway.

It’s not happiness, not properly, and it takes Zayn a minute to recognize the foreign feeling as contentment, fulfilment, like Zayn could stay in bed with Harry while Harry sleeps for the rest of their lives and be perfectly content and satisfied with it.

Zayn doesn’t move, but Harry does then, his face rising a bit until his nose is poking Zayn’s chin. Zayn backs his own face away, but just a little, just so that he can properly stare at Harry. His eyelids are fluttering a bit, his eyelashes trembling and casting shadows on his cheeks now that the sun’s a bit stronger and filtering more through the curtains.

Zayn can’t help himself, and runs the backs of his fingers down Harry’s cheekbones, their faces so close together that Zayn could be kissing Harry without even really moving forward.

Harry’s eyes blink open, and Zayn’s stomach drops as they just stare at each other, so close that Harry’s eyes go a bit cross. Zayn moves to back up, but Harry’s hand wraps around his bicep.

Harry doesn’t speak. They stay there, looking at each other for a long moment, but Zayn’s done by the time Harry’s eyes drop to his lips.

He kisses him. Harry emits a small sigh, blinking furiously before getting on with the program and kissing Zayn back, just a slotting of lips. He tastes like the cheap toothpaste from the bathroom, and Zayn’s stomach keeps dropping, but the dullness has never been so far away.

He has it all, feels it all. The desire, the relief, the contentment.

Harry must understand, because he smiles in their kiss and parts his lips, like an invitation which Zayn takes in the span of a breath, touching Harry’s tongue with his and sucking on it until Harry lets out a breathy moan and pushes at Zayn’s shoulder so that he falls on his back, and Harry’s straddling him.

“Been wanting to do this for ages” Harry murmurs before attacking Zayn’s lips again.

Just as it started slowly, it becomes frantic. Harry’s hands are cupping Zayn’s face as they keep kissing and kissing, and Zayn’s own hands run down the smooth expanse of Harry’s back, resting on the curve of his arse and gently pressing.

They’re both hard already, and the pressure is very welcome for both of them, as they both release a groan in each other’s mouth. Zayn hooks his fingers in the waistband of Harry’s pants, desperate to feel _more_ , but he doesn’t do anything, doesn’t know if Harry really wants it. Harry answers by tugging his hands down, to get rid of his pants, before making quick work of Zayn’s as well, until they’re both naked with Harry still on top.

Harry wastes no time after that. He licks his own palm with a gaze that makes Zayn’s stomach turn upside down, in a good way, and then wraps his hand around both of them, stroking them together with just the right pressure for Zayn. He remembers his brief fantasy in the shower earlier, and he’s now sure that nothing he can imagine could compare to the real deal, to Harry straddling him and wanking them both while he keeps his eyes trained on Zayn’s face.

Harry moans. He moans and fists the pillow on the side of Zayn’s head, his face, neck and chest flustered and his breath heavy. “You have… no idea” Harry says, groans “No idea how you make me feel”

Zayn chuckles, his own gasps and pants leaving his mouth with his words. “Babe, I didn’t have any idea about what _I_ feel before two days ago” he retorts.

Harry laughs and leans down to kiss Zayn some more, as the movements of his hand increase until Zayn feels so close he could explode. “Babe, I’m close” he tells Harry.

Harry nods. He doesn’t answer, but he runs his thumbnail along Zayn’s slit, and Zayn comes with a shout, his back arching under Harry.

Harry watches him come down from his height with a wondering gaze, and Zayn recovers his breath as quick as he can before swatting Harry’s hand away and replacing it with his own around Harry’s dick. “Come for me, babe, yeah?”

Harry nods, his curls bouncing and tickling Zayn’s face. “I’m close too”

Zayn smiles and twists his wrist until he finds out what sets Harry off. He squeezes a bit at the base, running his index on the underside and then stroking again, and Harry moans louder, kissing Zayn again as he comes between their stomachs, their come mixing and making an utter mess out of them, not that Zayn really cares.

“We need to shower again, now” Zayn comments after a moment.

Harry laughs.

Zayn listens to Harry’s soft chuckles, and he decides not to care about the little dullness for now. The dullness brought by the fact that Zayn doesn’t know where they really stand, not when the happiness Zayn feels is just something _temporary_.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you're thinking :)  
> I am also on Tumblr as wont-you-stay-till-the-am.tumblr.com, come hit me up if you wanna talk.


	3. Ribbons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What if there are paps around?”  
> Zayn shakes his head. “I don’t care, babe” he replies, and he’s honest too.  
> And it’s not because he _can’t_. Zayn wouldn’t care even if he was _normal_ , because he wants Harry, with an intensity he’s never felt before, and if the whole world wants to speculate on that, it can be his guest. They can look all they want, they’ll never get it anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual disclaimer: I don't know or own any of the characters present in this work. I only own the plot and the eventual original characters.

 

 

Zayn knows that the dullness at the base of his stomach is due to his fear that things will be weird with Harry after they go back. He can’t feel it, but he recognizes it anyway.

He’s wrong, though, because Harry looks exactly the same as they make their way up the highway, back to the hotel. They smile and stay mostly silent, but the silence is not heavy, it’s just quietness. Zayn catches Harry staring at him as Zayn drives, and they grin like teenagers in love whenever their eyes meet, and Zayn wishes he could find the person who gave him the chance to feel all those fucking butterflies in his stomach and fucking snog them to thank them.

They don’t have the chance to speak much once they arrive at the hotel, because Zayn is immediately shoved in Greg’s chair to have his hair done, and Harry is pulled away by Niall to “give explanations about why you thought it was a great idea to sneak away with the singer in the middle of the night, Haz”. Harry sends Zayn a _help-me-please_ gaze from the sound equipment van before it leaves, and Zayn laughs in his face while Caroline gapes at him.

They speak, although briefly, when Zayn reaches Harry on stage with the blatant excuse of wanting the head tech to set up his in-ear and transmitter. Niall gives him a fake offended once-over and lets him go to Harry, and Harry is giggling a little by the time Zayn reaches him.

“You know Niall actually _built_ your in-ear and transmitter, right? There’s no one who can place ‘em better than him” Harry tells Zayn as he hooks the transmitter on Zayn’s belt and slides the cord up Zayn’s spine, under his t-shirt.

Zayn chuckles. “My bad, then” he says.

Harry chuckles and runs his fingers up Zayn’s spine with the cord, and Zayn shivers bodily at the contact. “Fuck” he breathes.

Harry instantly retreats his hand, panic written all over his face as he looks up at Zayn from his chair behind the mixer. “Sorry, I’m sorry” he blurts out.

Zayn smiles. “Hey, babe, ‘s all good” he whispers to him when Harry faces him, standing up “It’s just that I can’t go on stage with a boner” he adds, leaning over to speak into Harry’s ear.

Harry’s the one who shivers then. “Is this… is this okay? Are we okay? I don’t want it to be weird”

“Does it look weird to you, babe? Doesn’t look weird to me” Zayn says calmly “It just looks like something we should pick up later tonight, after a real shower and in a bed that doesn’t smell like mould”

Harry chuckles embarrassedly and shakes his hair before tying it in a bun. “Yeah” he says at last “Yeah, okay. If that’s what you want”

“It is” Zayn confirms.

Harry nods, smiling a little. “Sing whatever?”

“Better if there’re high notes?” Zayn grins.

Harry grins right back. “It’s always better when you hit the high notes”

 

*

 

The reason Zayn Malik and Ben Winston broke up, if you abide by the tabloids, is because Ben moved to the States and Zayn is probably not able to love, seen that it’s not a secret that he’s a No-Feeler.

The real reason, if you talk to Zayn himself, is that Ben is a narcissistic, selfish arsehole. Zayn and Ben had dated for months, a year earlier, and Zayn has thought in more than one occasion that if he had had any emotions, what he’d have felt for Ben would have been hate.

Because Ben liked the fucking and liked the surplus of fame brought to him by being a producer and dating a young, on the brink of fame singer. But Ben was as fleeting as a gush of fucking wind, never committed to Zayn the way Zayn himself committed to him. The only thing Zayn couldn’t give Ben was proof that he loved him, but Ben, Ben didn’t give Zayn _shit_. And Zayn eventually realized that he loathed Ben, probably the very moment the rumours about Zayn getting his record deal on his knees with an in-demand producer started (even if Ben didn’t have anything to do with Zayn’s label), and Ben didn’t raise a single finger to stop them.

After taking hate from the donation box, Zayn has thought about Ben a lot, and gotten confirmation that the dullness in his stomach is indeed hate, in Ben’s case.

So, Zayn hates Ben Winston.

And he hates him more when Ben shows up at the lobby of the hotel after the show without any warning, right when Harry has just showed up too and is about to tell Zayn something that Zayn definitely wants to hear more than whatever Ben wants to say anyway.

He doesn’t need to _feel_ anything to know he’d rather talk to Harry Styles than Ben Winston.

“Zayn!” Ben chuckles, and straight-up pushes Harry out of the way to hug Zayn.

Zayn doesn’t let him. Harry looks hurt, and of course he is. So Zayn recoils from Ben, and for the first time he wishes he had a bottle of anger to gulp down just to give Ben what he deserves for handling someone like that. For handling _Harry_ like that.

“What the fuck, Ben?” Zayn says coldly. The dullness in his stomach is so heavy it almost overcomes the happiness.

Ben frowns. “What? What’d I do?”

Zayn gestures to Harry, who is still there, looking frozen and a little bit worried.

Ben sighs. “Sorry” he tells Harry “Now if you can get us a drink from the bar? I’d like to talk to Zayn in private”

“He’s not your fucking _errand boy_ ” Zayn hisses, shoving at Ben’s shoulder.

Not being able to feel has rarely been so frustrating. What would he feel if he could? Anger? Resentment? Embarrassment?

Harry shakes his head and clears his throat. “Zayn, it’s okay. I’ll just go. I’m afraid I won’t get drinks for you and your… friend, but I’ll leave you some privacy” he deadpans “Goodnight, I’ll see you tomorrow”

He’s gone before Zayn can even reply, and Zayn sees him go out of the hotel’s back entrance instead of upstairs to the corridor on the first floor where Zayn’s room and all his staff’s rooms are. Zayn would very much rather leave Ben where he is and go after Harry, but he can’t risk going outside so soon after coming back to the hotel. He can still hear the paps outside.

“What the _fuck_ , Ben?” Zayn asks, putting some more distance between them and thanking God they’re alone “You show up after a year and think it’s a good idea to harass my friends?”

Ben chuckles. “I came to see you, I don’t care about the rest of your… entourage. Been thinking about you a lot”

Zayn arches an eyebrow. “Have you? I didn’t spare you a single thought, cheers”

Ben steps forward, coming in Zayn’s space too much for what Zayn actually likes, especially if it’s Ben. He can’t believe he let Ben fuck him for so long. The dullness increases.

“We were good together, weren’t we?” Ben smirks “And now you’re famous, even. Let’s get back together, baby. Just imagine how _good_ we’d look”

Zayn chuckles. It’s so much like _Ben_ , to think about how good they would look together instead of what they really might give each other. He shakes his head. “You know, Ben, I can’t fucking feel anything, but when it’s you, I’m glad I don’t” he says “Because the disgust and resentment might kill me, if I could feel them. I think I was happy at some point with you, you know? I couldn’t feel it, but I think I was. You destroyed that. And I always learn from my mistakes. That’s what you’ve been, Ben. A mistake. And I never make the same mistake twice”

Ben chuckles. “And you think anyone else is gonna _accept_ it? Zayn, you should look at yourself in the mirror. You don’t have much to offer, do you? You’re a fucking robot. I accepted that. I don’t know if anyone else will, baby” he says “I might be your best choice”

Zayn feels it, the dullness when Ben calls him a robot, and he knows exactly what _that_ is. It’s the anxiety, the low self-esteem, it’s the small Zayn in middle school that his classmates made fun of. It’s the fear of spending his whole life alone, because what if Ben’s right, what if nobody’s gonna love him for just the little he can give?

Zayn is glad he doesn’t feel any of it, though, because if he can’t feel it, he can’t _show_ it. So he smiles at Ben. “Then I’d rather die alone” he says “Get out of here, Ben. Before I call my security”

Ben snorts. “Your security? I _gave_ you what you have, Zayn”

Zayn can’t get angry. He knows he should, but he just can’t, his body is not wired to make him feel like his heart is breaking and he wants to punch someone. He thinks Ben’s lucky Zayn can’t. “I gave _myself_ what I have” he says calmly “The songs are mine, the record deal I have is mine. You brought me to parties I didn’t want to go to, introduced me to people who never meant shit to me. You showed me off because I was a pretty thing on your arm. _This_ ” he gestures to the hotel, to himself “Is mine. You were long gone when I started really doing what I wanted”

Ben shrugs. “Whatever you say, Zayn. Give me a call if you change your mind”

“I won’t” Zayn assures, turning his back on Ben.

He hears him leave, and he only decides to risk it and look for Harry once he’s sure Ben is far way from him.

They didn’t even exchange numbers, Zayn realizes as he quickly goes out the back entrance of the building. The paps seem to be gone, and it doesn’t take him long to find Harry.

He’s sitting on the bench there on the back, the same bench where Zayn was talking to Doniya about Hakim being born the night before. Harry’s shoulders are hunched, like he’s resting his elbows on his knees, but Zayn clearly sees him shaking.

“Haz?” he says slowly, sitting next to him.

Harry jolts. “Sorry, sorry” he says quickly, standing up to put some distance between them.

Zayn stands too. “What are you even saying sorry for?”

Harry shakes his head. “Oh my God, Zayn, I feel… I feel so… so fucking overwhelmed” he says with difficulty, backing away some more. Zayn doesn’t give him an inch, though, and follows him until Harry’s back hits the concrete wall of the hotel.

There’s nobody there, the windows are all dark, and Zayn doesn’t really care anyway as he cages Harry’s shaking frame with his arms, leaning his forehead against Harry’s. “Tell me what you feel, babe?” he asks, quietly.

Harry’s still shaking, body and voice, when he answers. “I feel… I’m angry. I know who that man is, I know he treated you like shit. I was worried he would try to get back with you and you would say yes because you think you can’t have any better” he gulps down some air “I was feeling worthless because I’m _nothing_ compared to him, and I’m _jealous_ because I want to be with you, I want it so much even if I know we basically just met, and then I was by the door and I heard him call you a robot and I was so fucking _angry_ again and…”

Zayn kisses him. He feels something flutter in his stomach, something he can’t quite describe but it’s linked to the happiness he drank because it’s not dull, there’s nothing dull about whatever Harry says or does to Zayn, and Zayn thinks it’d probably be the same even if he didn’t have any emotions at all, not even the surrogated ones, because Harry really is _something else_.

Harry makes an _umpf_ sound when their mouths collide, but he kisses Zayn back, hard and wet, and Zayn’s glad nobody’s around because he feels himself fill up instantly.

“You’re not a robot, Zayn” Harry whispers against his lips “Please, I want you to know this. You’re not”

Zayn chuckles. “Kids in school used to call me that”

Harry gasps. “No!” he exclaims “Zayn, no, being a No-Feeler means _nothing_ , you’re still a _person_ , and…”

“Harry?” Zayn asks, interrupts him, because there’s so much he wants to say, but one of his thoughts is making a little bit of dullness come back, and Zayn doesn’t want it.

Harry nods. “Yeah?”

“Are you here with me because I’m happy?” he murmurs “Because if you like _this_ part of me, you have to know it’s not permanent, and walk away before you’re too close. For both our sakes”

It hurts a little, to say it. Because Zayn thinks that if Harry doesn’t really want him for himself, he might need about two litres of that happiness to recover. He doesn’t know why everything seems to be so much more intense with Harry, and this is not the time to try and find an answer, but he’s sure it has something to do with the fact his new emotions are confirming that he’s fallen head over heels for Harry Styles.

Harry blinks. “Zayn, you’re never gonna _see_ , are you?” he chuckles, albeit a bit bitterly “There’s _so much more_ to you. I don’t fucking care about your emotions, I have enough for both of us, I think” he chuckles again, and he’s also crying “But I want you. A lot. And if Ben Winston messed you up, I’m gonna kick him in the bollocks”

Zayn snorts and burst out laughing right on Harry’s mouth, they’re so close. It’s not even that funny, but Harry looks like a disgruntled toddler, and Zayn is probably a bit more than just fallen head over heels for him, because his happiness doubles its intensity when Harry laughs with him.

“Don’t underestimate the anger of an All-Feeler” Harry mutters after a moment.

Zayn inhales Harry’s cologne, the cologne he’s come to like so fucking much without even a reason, and kisses him again. “Never would” he assures “Now let’s go back inside. I’m starting to be afraid it’s gonna be a habit, that I don’t have a chance to shower after a show because of you”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Tell that to your ex, more like” he mutters “And, no. Not yet. We said we were gonna do stuff with your happiness, right? We’re going to the hotel pool”

Zayn arches an eyebrow. “Are we?”

Harry shrugs. “I’m your manager, we said” he reminds Zayn “You told me I can make you do whatever the fuck I want”

Zayn smirks, feeling so much better than five minutes earlier, and lets the boldness lead him into snaking a hand between them to cup Harry’s dick with his palm. Harry squeals. “Why don’t we skip the pool and find another thing I can enjoy?”

Harry laughs. “That was too cocky to be real, even for you” he says, and lightly pushes Zayn away “Come on. It’s dark, we can swim in our pants”

 

*

 

Zayn cannot be afraid. Fear is a feeling, and Zayn doesn’t have any.

Nonetheless, he’s always felt a particularly heavy dullness in his stomach whenever he’s gotten close to water, and a quick drink of fear two months earlier had confirmed he’d been right.

He’s fucking scared of water.

The fear’s not there anymore, but the dullness is, and he tries to fight it by grabbing Harry’s hand. “Haz, babe?” he says, gulping and looking at the clear water of the pool “I might be afraid of water”

Harry chuckles. “I know. Those pictures that came out last year of you and Ben fucking Winston? You looked _terrified_ , and I bet you weren’t afraid of his tight shorts”

Zayn giggles nervously. “Why are we doing this?”

“Because now that you’re happy it’ll be easier to enjoy it” Harry says surely “Do you trust me?”

“Should I?”

“Yes” Harry declares.

He lightly pulls him down to make Zayn sit on the edge of the pool, and they stay with just their legs in the water for a while. Zayn stares at Harry and feels like he’ll never tire of doing that, not even when the happiness will be gone and he’ll be dull and emotionless again.

The sky’s pitch black, but the air is warm, and the lights shining around and inside the pool make everything look like silver.

Especially Harry’s eyes.

Harry smiles and leans in to kiss him. Zayn obliges happily, _really_ happily, he thinks to himself with a smile, and he lets Harry’s hands circle his waist, not even complaining when Harry slowly pulls them down, to stand completely in the pool.

Zayn’s stomach drops as soon as Harry’s lips leave his. _Yeah, definitely fear_ , he thinks, but he objectively knows the water only reaches his chest, and Harry’s there too, so he’s gonna be fine.

“What did you mean, earlier?” Zayn finds himself asking, his fingertips ghosting over Harry’s chest.

Harry hums. “When?”

“Back at the motel. When you said you’ve been wanting to do this for ages”

Harry chuckles. It takes him three more kisses before he answers. “You never looked at me before, but I looked at you. I think I realized I liked you by the time I was hired and I saw you perform _I Don’t Wanna Live Forever_ for the first time” he says, whispering like it’s a secret only meant for Zayn to hear, and Zayn wouldn’t have it any other way.

Zayn smiles. “Why?”

Harry shrugs. “You’re just something else, Zayn” he replies “Everybody talked about you being a No-Feeler, but that’s not what I see when you sing. Whatever you lack in emotions, you put it in your songs. And the sexiest thing about it is that you don’t even realize you’re doing it, you do it like it’s nothing, but it’s _everything_ ”

Zayn doesn’t know how to answer, but there’s no need to, because Harry just smiles and grabs his hands, starting to pull him towards the middle of the pool.

Zayn’s grip on Harry’s fingers must be painful, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind. They don’t go far anyway. Harry only makes them cross the pool to reach the other end, taking care of never leaving the shallow part so that Zayn’s feet always touch the ground.

When they do reach the other end, Harry lets go of Zayn’s hands to duck underwater, and Zayn sees the brown waves of his curls arch and float in the crystal-clear water, his hair lighter and lighter in a thousand different shades whenever the lights from the pool ground filter in between his locks.

Harry emerges a couple seconds later, and Zayn can only grab him by the shoulders and shove him against the pool wall, demanding another kiss to which Harry happily obliges, laughing a little in Zayn’s mouth even as their tongues collide.

“You were right” Zayn pants on his lips “I’m really enjoying this”

Harry grins. “I know” he replies “But I think now it’s time to go do that other thing you might enjoy”

Zayn laughs. He feels lighter than a feather, and wonders if Harry has been put on his path simply to make Zayn get the most out of his new-found happiness. It certainly feels that way.

Zayn kisses Harry again, marvelling at how pink and swollen Harry’s lips already look. “I want you to fuck me, babe, please” he asks, begs, more like.

Harry nods, but as he does it, he also places a hand on Zayn’s chest to stop him and look at him in the eyes. “Zayn, if all you want is a one-night stand, I can’t do this” he says, and his mouth isn’t smiling anymore, and Zayn hates that “I’m already not a one-night stand kind of person without throwing in all the shitty feelings I get out of that”

Zayn sighs. “Harry, I doubt one night is gonna be enough for me” he says sincerely, and he means it, he _knows_ it deep in his heart, the heart which is beating louder and louder the more he gets used to say what he _actually feels_ and mean it “I doubt forever’s gonna be enough”

Harry chuckles. “To be such a broody, bad-boy singer, you sure are fucking cheesy”

Zayn laughs out loud. “Tell it to whoever it is who gave me all this fucking happiness” he says, shaking his hand to show Harry the wet red ribbon which has never left his wrist.

Harry smiles. He stares at the ribbon for a long time, until Zayn has enough and pulls him in for another kiss while they both strain their arms to get out of the pool.

Harry clambers on the wet, slippery tiles and grabs Zayn’s arm to steady himself. Zayn only laughs, it’s like he can’t do anything else wherever Harry is concerned.

He wonders what it’ll be like, when the happiness will be gone. Will Harry really still like him? Is it really not that important, that Zayn can’t show his feelings?

Zayn fights the dullness brought by the thought with another chuckle as Harry trips twice on their way to the elevator. They’re drenched in water, fat drops spluttering on the floor where they walk to get to their rooms – Zayn’s room, more like – and a girl with the staff uniform gives them the nasty eye, but doesn’t say anything.

“Sorry” Harry calls out to her anyway. She doesn’t turn.

Zayn laughs at the outraged expression on Harry’s face when his apologies fall on deaf ears, and rolls his eyes as he slides his key-card in the automatic lock, and the door clicks open.

Harry steps inside the room on his tiptoes, looking around with a sheepish smile, like he can’t believe he’s being allowed inside.

Zayn wants to go to the en-suite to grab some towels, but apparently they don’t need them, because as soon as the door is closed again, Harry throws himself on him and they immediately fall on the bed in a tangle of limbs, the remnants of the water drying on the sheets and between their chests because of how hot their bodies are running.

It occurs to Zayn as they both get rid of the wet clothes they threw on themselves to get back inside from the pool, that Zayn has asked Harry to top without even thinking about it. It’s not that Zayn has never bottomed before. That’s been all he’s done with Ben, to be honest, although Zayn had asked him to switch sometime. But Ben never let Zayn top, he always said that “wasn’t how he rolled”. Well, it was Ben’s loss, because Zayn loved it.

Still, Zayn has never bottomed with any of his one-night stands after Ben. He hates it, that it’s become something to be _careful_ about, hates that his sex life has become a blur of NDAs and that he can’t do something that he loves because it leaves him too _exposed_. Because that’s exactly what Zayn loves about having someone else top.

“Are you sure, Zayn?” Harry asks when they’re fully naked, and Zayn can see the worry in his eyes, a worry that is definitely _not_ in Zayn’s, and it’s not because he can’t feel it. It’s because it’s not there at all, because Zayn wants and wants and wants it with Harry.

Zayn nods, and pulls Harry on top of him, so that he can kiss him again.

Harry sighs against Zayn’s neck, and takes his time to kiss him stupid.

Then he nods. “Okay, babe” he just says, his breath ragged.

By the time Harry has Zayn splayed on the mattress and his mouth on Zayn’s dick, Zayn’s brain isn’t even working properly anymore. He looks down at Harry, crouched between his legs and greedily slurping while bobbing his head up and down, and he thinks he’s never even looked at something so perfect.

He barely manages to hold it together and not come when Harry covers his fingers in the lube he’s retrieved from the nightstand without even asking Zayn where he keeps it, and then Harry’s stretching him, one finger, then two. Zayn feels himself clench at the intrusion, but wills himself to relax when Harry stops sucking on him and resorts to place his lips on Zayn’s hip, kissing it and whispering sweet nothings to him while he opens him up at a torturously slow pace.

“Please Harry please please babe please” Zayn hears himself moan.

“Just a little bit more, babe” Harry murmurs against his hip, adding a third finger.

When Harry also has enough, he scrambles for the condom Zayn’s picked from his wallet and handed him, and rolls it on himself, struggling a bit until Zayn chuckles and moves to help him. “Sorry” Harry blushes “It’s been a while I guess”

Zayn just kisses him, because what else is he supposed to do when Harry’s so fucking _edible_?

Harry takes a deep breath when he starts breaching Zayn, inch by slow inch, and Zayn feels the familiar discomfort mixed with the pleasure.

When Harry finally bottoms out in Zayn, he stays very still, until Zayn can’t take the stillness anymore and nods. “Move, Harry, please move” he breathes out.

And Harry does. His thrusts start slowly, making Zayn painfully aware of every single inch in his core, but then they both become more comfortable with each other, and Harry moves quicker, harder, while Zayn remembers how to grind down his hips to meet someone’s thrusts halfway.

“You’re so tight, babe” Harry pants on his lips “You feel so fucking good”

Zayn nods. “You too, babe, fuck, I’ve never felt like this” he replies, meaning every single word, more than he’s ever meant them before.

Harry moans a little bit at that, quickening his pace even more, his big hands settling on Zayn’s hips and pressing so hard Zayn will surely have marks. He finds out he doesn’t mind at all.

Harry raises Zayn’s knees a bit higher, slightly changing his angle, and Zayn swears loudly, his vision going white. His nails dig in Harry’s shoulders, and Harry hisses, but keeps hitting his prostate until Zayn comes untouched, come streaking between their chests.

He clenches on Harry, because he can’t help it, and Harry comes as well, muttering Zayn’s name over and over again until they’re both spent, collapsed on top of each other with come drying on their skin.

Zayn thinks they’ll take care of showering later, because now all he wants is to stay right there, with Harry still slotted between his legs, in the silence of the room, while all they can hear is their breaths settling.

“Can I stay?” Harry asks, a bit tentatively, getting off Zayn and lying on his side.

Zayn chuckles, and cards his fingers through Harry’s curls, damp with sweat. “I don’t ever want you to leave” he murmurs, kissing him.

They fall asleep looking at each other, their heads on the same pillow.

 

*

 

When Zayn wakes up, Harry’s still asleep. Zayn’s pretty sure they didn’t fall asleep as tangled to each other as they currently are, with Harry’s arms and legs wrapped around Zayn like a koala bear, and a little bit of drool trickling out from Harry’s lips onto Zayn’s chest where Harry’s face is buried.

Zayn finds it endearing, and he wonders if it’s the happiness, or just Harry, or both.

Harry’s hard against Zayn’s hip, and Zayn chuckles to himself, impressed at Harry’s stamina, considered that they fucked four times the night before.

Zayn could definitely go at it again, too. Maybe ask Harry if he wants to bottom now. Harry’s said that he’s just as versatile as Zayn, “if not more”, he’s added, and Zayn wants to find out what he meant. He debates on whether to wake Harry up and just go for it, or let him sleep some more first, but he doesn’t do anything, because right that moment the door bangs open.

Their waists are thankfully covered by the sheets, Zayn has only time to think before he sees Louis and Liam barge in his room, while Louis shouts “Oi oi!” and Liam proudly holds a copy of Zayn’s key-card with a grin on his face.

Zayn needs to have a conversation with Andrew about giving Louis and Liam unlimited access to Zayn’s private quarters, he thinks as he rolls his eyes.

Harry jolts awake and sits up with a gasp. Yeah, waking up at Louis’s screams is certainly not a good way to start your day. Zayn knows. From experience. Repeatedly.

There’s a moment when Louis, Liam and Harry stare at each other, and then all three of them mutter a “Oh, fuck” at the realization that yes, Zayn is _in bed with someone_ , and yes, _they should have knocked_.

Harry emits something that is definitely a squeal and grabs the sheets, clutching them on his lap to make sure he’s covered.

Louis laughs. “Sorry to interrupt” he says, and he doesn’t mean it, not even a little, if the smirk he’s sporting is anything to go by.

Zayn doesn’t even answer. He sits up too, looking at Harry. He’s gaping a little, staring at their ‘guests’, or better, staring at Louis, with his lovely pink lips parted.

“I’m dreaming” Harry says, like he’s talking to himself “I slept with Zayn Malik and now Louis Tomlinson caught us and I’m dreaming”

Liam snorts. “I’m afraid this is real, mate”

“Very real” Louis adds, eyeing both Zayn’s and Harry’s lap with an arched eyebrow.

Harry squeals again and abruptly turns to face Zayn. Zayn is momentarily taken aback by Harry’s eyes, as it often happens now, and he can do nothing but try to smile reassuringly at Harry. There’s something a bit weird in his stomach, something he can’t pinpoint, but he knows that as much as he loves Louis and Liam, he’d have rather been alone with Harry when he woke up.

“It’s okay, Haz” Zayn says “They’re my friends, you know that”

“Louis Tomlinson” Harry hisses “That is Louis fucking Tomlinson”

Zayn frowns. “Um, yeah?”

Louis’s loud laugh brings their attention back to him. “Are you my _fan_?” he asks Harry, eyes wide and full of mirth.

Harry goes a dark crimson when he answers. “I… Well, I… yeah” he admits, defeated.

As Louis laughs at how hilarious it is, Zayn finally manages to interpret what he’s feeling.

 _Jealousy_.

He’s not jealous that Harry like Louis’s music, of course, he’s not that big of a dick. He’s jealous that Harry’s _looking_ at Louis, and jealous that maybe if things had been different, Harry would be in bed with Louis in that moment. He knows it’s not fair to give Harry so little credit, especially after Harry has told Zayn he doesn’t do one-night stands, but he’s never been jealous before and doesn’t know what to do with it, how to will it away, how to fight it.

Harry must sense Zayn’s discomfort, because he turns to face him again and frowns. And then Harry clears his throat and sighs. “I, um, I’ll leave you to your friends then, I suppose?”

Zayn doesn’t want him to leave. He doesn’t want Louis and Liam to leave either, since they’ve been the awesome friends that they are and surprised Zayn while on tour, but he really wants Harry to stay.

He shakes his head. “No, Haz, stay, yeah? I have a free day today, we can like…”

“It’s fine” Harry smiles “I’m not going anywhere, okay? But your friends are _here_ and you haven’t seen them in three months so I’ll leave you to them” he adds, staring intently at Zayn.

Zayn sighs, and nods. Harry keeps staring.

“My _pants_ , Zayn” Harry hisses through his teeth, gesturing at something by Zayn’s side of the bed.

Zayn feels hot embarrassment overcome him, and his face get warmer, as he finally understands Harry’s problem. Harry’s underwear is on the floor, by Zayn’s side, and Harry is still as naked as Zayn under the sheets.

Louis and Liam watch them without saying a word, and Zayn avoids looking at them because he knows the amused grins he’ll find on their faces. So he just focuses on bending over and retrieving Harry’s pants, handing them to him.

Harry chuckles awkwardly as he struggles to wear his pants from under the sheets, and when he finally manages, he nods. “I’ll… um, I’ll see you” he says, even more awkwardly.

Zayn’s not having that, though, and he grabs Harry by the wrist to yank him forward and kiss him. He honestly doesn’t care if he’s putting on a show, if Louis and Liam stare at them. He just wants Harry to be at ease, to know Zayn would have picked this right where they left it the night before if he had a choice.

Harry relaxes in the kiss, but he doesn’t let Zayn deepen it, and clears his throat again, cheeks red and eyes sparkling like Zayn loves. “Okay. See you later then” Harry says, and then wriggles out of the bed and Zayn’s grasp.

Zayn chuckles as Harry smiles embarrassedly at Louis and Liam, and stretches out a hand for them. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Harry, I’m Zayn’s head tech”

Louis laughs. “Didn’t know ‘head tech’ meant _that_ kind of head too” he comments, and Harry’s face goes purple.

“Louis” Zayn grits out.

Louis shrugs. “Do you assure me that you washed your hands after last night’s passion?” he keeps speaking to Harry.

Harry stutters, his hand faltering from where it’s waiting for Louis to shake it.

Louis laughs. Hard, in Harry’s face, his hands on his stomach. And then he shakes Harry’s hand anyway. “Oh, Jesus, your face” he wheezes “It’s okay, Harold dear. I’ll survive being contaminated by Zayn’s dried jizz”

“Louis!” it’s Liam who scolds him that time.

Harry laughs nervously and then shakes Liam’s hand too, before sending Zayn another awkward glance and leaving the room with his clothes bundled in a heap in his arms.

“Get dressed, loverboy” Louis tells Zayn then “You owe us a _shitton_ of explanations”

 

*

 

Zayn and Harry did finally exchange numbers at some point the night before, so while Liam drives the three of them to a secluded café so that they can have a much-needed coffee together, Zayn texts Harry.

_Hey m sorry bout all this louis s a lot I know but I didn’t want u to leave_

Harry, to Zayn’s relief, immediately reads the text and starts typing. _No s all good im sorry tho I was so weird but I was having a major freakout inside_

Zayn chuckles. _Didnt know u were a fan of lou_

_omg zaynnnnnn he saw me naked he thinks im a slag doesn’t he_

_no he doesn’t babe, he actually said u r fit and he found the whole thing very amusing_ , Zayn replies with another chuckle.

_Jesus I won’t ever be able to look at him in the face if I ever see him again_

Zayn grins. He’s still mildly jealous of Louis, but he also recognizes in Louis the occasion of making Harry happy, since he always seems to be a bit down lately, even though Zayn has no idea why.

 _Too bad babe cuz you’re meeting him tonight. We’re having pints somewhere. Bring niall if u want_ , Zayn decides without even asking Louis and Liam, because he knows they’ll be down.

 _Really?????_ , Harry asks.

 _Really. Wear your prettiest sheer shirt and your tightest jeans and put us all to fucking shame_ , Zayn replies with another grin.

Harry answers with blushing emojis and scared emojis, but then agrees to go out with Zayn and his friends that night.

“Are you done texting your crush?” Louis asks, faking an annoyed tone, but the glint in his eyes tells Zayn another story.

“Yeah, mate, cheers” Zayn answers “We’re going out with Harry and his friend Niall tonight. Fyi”

Liam laughs. “You really like this bloke, don’t you?”

Zayn sighs. “Yeah, Leeyum. I really do, I think”

They sit at a table, far from the entrance of the café and also far from the windows, and once their orders are done Zayn tells Louis and Liam everything he just mentioned in their texts.

That someone gave him happiness, and he doesn’t know who they are, nor how to properly handle the new emotion yet. That happiness comes with a lot of side-feelings, and not all of them are good and simple. He tells them about the jealousy he felt while they were with Harry in Zayn’s room, knowing that Louis won’t take it personally or the wrong way. He tells them how special Harry is, how he’s already certain Harry’s something else even if they’ve really spoken to each other only for a couple of days. Zayn kinda expects them to be sceptic about his new relationship – is it a relationship? Could it be? Would Harry want that? – but they’re genuinely not. They look… _happy for him_ , Zayn thinks, recognizing his own feeling on his friends’ faces.

Louis’s calm and warm smile vanishes right the moment Zayn mentions Ben’s short and unnecessary visit. “The fucker did _what_?” Louis hisses. Zayn smiles, because he knows Louis never stood Ben, even when Zayn was actually convinced they would work and Louis had to bite his tongue not to fight with Zayn about him every single time.

Zayn nods. “Yeah. It’s okay, Lou, like, I don’t care, I _can’t_ care”

Louis scoffs. “The fact that you _can’t_ feel anything about it doesn’t mean you _don’t_ feel anything about it” he retorts curtly “And I can see that you’re upset now, so”

“I am, a bit, I think” Zayn admits “Maybe it’s just my happiness tuning itself down a little because of it, but I’m not upset for me. I’m upset because he upset Harry. He treated him like shit, shoving him out of his way and ordering him to get us some drinks. And the whole thing overwhelmed Harry a little bit. He’s an All-Feeler”

Liam and Louis gape at that. “Oh” is all they say.

Zayn nods. “Yeah. And then afterwards I asked him to tell me what he was feeling, and I swear, lads, I didn’t even _know_ so many emotions could be felt at the same time”

Louis sighs. “Well, now that Ben even fucked with little Harold, I can only hate him more” he declares.

Zayn chuckles. “Why?”

“Harry seems like a good lad” Louis shrugs “And Ben is a massive cunt. It’s not rocket science, which of them I’d rather have around you”

 

*

 

Harry and Niall are already at the club, because Zayn, Louis and Liam are late.

It’s not their fault, though. The paps of course weren’t going to lose the occasion of photographing three birds with one stone, and they’ve basically mobbed Liam’s car as soon as they entered the downtown zone of the city, slowing them down because Liam didn’t want to accidentally run over a journalist.

When they finally get inside, away from the paps, Zayn immediately spots Harry.

He’s wearing skinny jeans, as per usual, and a half-unbuttoned shirt with a clouds and sky background and inexplicable palm trees and random plants patterned all over. The shirt is opened almost to his navel, exposing the moth and the swallows tattooed on his chest, and his silver cross pendant is resting between his pecs. Zayn swallows audibly, and Liam snorts, patting him on the shoulder.

Harry sees them, and Zayn distinctly catches him dry his hands on his jeans and then shake his hair to comb them backwards with his fingers, taking deep breaths and grabbing Niall’s bicep so hard it’s probably painful.

“Your boy’s nervous” Louis grins “Let’s make him more nervous”

Zayn doesn’t have time to stop Louis before they’ve finally reached Harry and Niall, and Louis is shoving a hand Harry’s way, smiling widely. “I see there’s no difference between when you’re naked and when you’re clothed, eh, little Harold?”

Harry emits a small wail and goes a dark red, not answering, and shaking Louis’s hand.

“Lou” Liam hisses, kicking Louis in the shin.

Louis laughs, and then pulls Harry to himself, hugging him and probably giving Harry a coronary, judging from his abashed expression. “I was _joking_ , Harold” Louis rolls his eyes “You look extremely fit and I might be jealous of Zayn if I didn’t have my fair share of fit dick right here” he adds, pointing at Liam.

Liam rolls his eyes as well, but the only answer Louis gets is a barking laugh from Niall, who makes himself known by shaking their hands. “I literally have no idea who you two are and why Harry here is losing his shit, but we might be good friends, I think” he declares.

Harry laughs nervously and clears his throat. “My name’s not actually Harold” he informs Louis “It’s just Harry”

“Riveting” Louis grins “C’mon, _Harold_. You got a table, didn’t ya?”

Harry nods, but he stays right where he is, looking at Zayn with a small smile, and fidgeting a bit with his own fingers.

Zayn sees Niall roll his eyes and then show Louis and Liam to the table, but he doesn’t pay the three of them much mind. Because Harry’s still standing in front of him, speechless and motionless, and Zayn wants to snog the living daylights out of him.

It’s not the setting for that, of course, but he can’t help himself when Harry uncertainly moves forward. Zayn smiles and grabs him by one of his wrists, pulling Harry to his chest and kissing him, just lightly, but kissing him.

Harry chuckles on Zayn’s lips. “I wasn’t sure how to say hi to you” he says, honest and raw like everything Harry does.

“You can say hi to me like this next time” Zayn murmurs.

“What if there are paps around?”

Zayn shakes his head. “I don’t care, babe” he replies, and he’s honest too.

And it’s not because he _can’t_. Zayn wouldn’t care even if he was _normal_ , because he wants Harry, with an intensity he’s never felt before, and if the whole world wants to speculate on that, it can be his guest. _They can look all they want, they’ll never get it anyway_ , Louis had once told Zayn concerning his relationship with Liam, which had been like honey for a bear to the paps for the first months.

“They can look all they want, they’ll never get it anyway” Zayn repeats, out loud, for himself and for Harry.

Harry blinks and stares at Zayn for a second before diving down to lightly kiss him first. “Okay” Harry just says, still smiling.

When they stop, Zayn can’t do anything but cup Harry’s face with his hands and stare at him in the eyes. “Will you tell me why you’re sad, babe?” he asks, risks it, because it’s bothering him so much, that he and Harry can’t be completely happy at the same time, especially since Zayn’s happiness is destined to be so short-lived.

Harry sighs. “I…” he says, and then interrupts himself, hesitates.

Zayn shakes his head and plants another chaste kiss on Harry’s lips. “You don’t have to tell me right now. But, when you feel like it? You’re making me enjoy my happiness. I can try to look for yours”

Harry gapes a bit, and then he grabs Zayn’s face and kisses him, more roughly, and with his tongue darting out to trace the seam of Zayn’s lips, shutting down most of his braincells in the process. “You’re making it better, that’s for sure” Harry pants when their tongues disentangle.

“Oi!!” someone yells over the music, behind them, and Zayn rolls his eyes in Harry’s face at Louis’s scream interrupting them.

Harry gasps. “I just made out with Zayn Malik in front of Louis fucking Tomlinson”

Zayn snorts. “Louis saw you naked. No need for formalities now”

Harry’s cheeks go almost purple at that. “Stop it, Zayn. I haven’t thought about anything else the whole day”

“I am deeply offended” Zayn declares “And a bit jealous” he adds, and maybe, just maybe, he means it more than a joke.

But Harry is the most over-sensitive person Zayn’s ever met, and he doesn’t know if it’s the fact that he’s an All-Feeler, or if it’s just _Harry_. But he immediately notices the truth hidden behind Zayn’s words, and frowns. “Zayn, babe?” he says, warily “You know it’s, like, nothing, right? I’m a huge fan of his, but you… you’re something else, Zayn”

Zayn smiles. It’s only been three days, and he’s still amazed at how _easy_ it is to smile when all you’re feeling is happiness – and its side-feelings, but whatever. “I know, babe, don’t get your knickers in a twist” he tells Harry “Also ‘cause that’s _my_ job, now” he grins.

Harry makes a sound that is half a squeal, half a chuckle. “And here I thought I was the one working for you”

“We can work for each other” Zayn winks.

Harry blushes. “Yeah” he breathes “Yeah, definitely”

“I swear to God if you two don’t get your arses seated in three seconds I’m gonna be under your bed next time you have sex” Louis informs them from the booth where he’s sitting with Liam and Niall.

Harry makes another one of those squeaky sounds that shouldn’t be as endearing as Zayn finds them. “Is he… is he always like that?” Harry asks, looking at Louis.

Zayn chuckles. “Pretty much even when he sleeps” he confirms “He’s a good lad, though”

Harry shrugs. “Figured that out the moment I found out he’s your best friend” he admits, like it’s nothing, like all the inherently _good_ things he says are nothing.

Zayn ignores Louis for another moment, and kisses Harry again before they finally take a seat with the other lads.

“Fucking finally, my beer’s getting warm” Niall tells them, shoving two pints Zayn’s and Harry’s way.

“So” Louis grins “Harold, we’ve been told you became Zayn’s _head_ tech some days ago, and you haven’t had a chance to celebrate properly yet”

Harry chuckles nervously. “Um, well, it’s not like I’m doing anything different from what I did before, to be honest. Didn’t think it required a celebration”

“It does” Liam says, and he’s smiling too “We’ve seen Zayn’s shows this past week. The sound’s ten times better”

“Couldn’t do it without Niall” Harry replies, smiling at his friend, ever the generous person. Zayn knows Niall’s a sick sound tech as well, he has no doubts about it, but in the short time in which he’s learned to know Harry, he’s also realized how Harry always seems to sell himself short.

Niall rolls his eyes. “He’s lying” he tells the rest of them “I learned more from this lad than from sound tech school” he points at Harry “And that’s saying something, considering that we attended sound tech school together”

Louis laughs. “To the little genius, then” he states, raising his glass and smirking at Harry “That one’s on me, Harold” he adds, gesturing to the pint in Harry’s hands.

Harry smiles. “Harry” he corrects “Cheers”

Zayn knows, objectively, that there’s nothing to be fucking jealous of, here, but it’s like a small snake is writhing in his stomach every time someone _looks_ at Harry. He’ll have to ask Liam to teach him how to control it, because Liam’s a jealous fucker as well when it’s about Louis.

For now, though, he glares a little at Louis and wraps his arm around the back of the booth, behind Harry’s head.

Louis grins, and winks at Zayn. “Cheers” he just says, clinking his glass against Zayn’s.

Zayn rolls his eyes, but if he knows Louis, which he does, he won’t stop taking the piss out of Zayn for _ages_. He sighs, and rolls his eyes again when Louis doesn’t stop staring at him and Harry with his grin.

Harry notices, because he notices everything, and he just slightly presses his side against Zayn’s, turning slightly to face him with his glass raised. “Cheers” Harry says, looking at Zayn in the eyes.

Zayn has the sudden urge to pull Harry out of the club and bring him to the hotel and fuck him for hours, but he incredibly manages to restrain himself and just clinks their glasses together. “Cheers, babe” he says, low and slow the way he now knows Harry likes.

Harry’s eyes flick to Zayn’s lips, and they both lick their own, and Zayn feels a little like he’s burning under Harry’s eyes, watching him run his tongue over his pink, pink lips while their gazes are locked.

“Jesus” Niall sighs “All this eye-fucking is gonna make me horny and I’m not even gay”

Louis and Liam snort in their beers, the liquid trickling ridiculously down both their chins.

Zayn laughs. Hard, hand on his stomach, crouching forward on the table and making his own beer spill a little on the shiny wooden surface.

He knows it’s a weird sight, Zayn Malik laughing heartily, even for his best friends, so he doesn’t blame them for the shocked gazes they’re sending his way.

But he can’t concentrate on them, because then he sees how _Harry_ is looking at him, and his eyes say a million things even if his mouth stays closed. He’s looking at Zayn like he can’t believe he’s real, like his fucking laugh is the best sound Harry’s ever heard, like he doesn’t want Zayn to ever stop.

Zayn doesn’t stop, because after that Harry grabs his hand under the table and spends hours stroking his thumb over Zayn’s knuckles, and Zayn can only grin and laugh for the rest of the night.

 

*

 

When they get back to the hotel after the night with the lads, Zayn is very tired and very happy. Louis and Liam leave him at the hotel, and luckily there are no paps around, because Zayn’s a bit tipsy still, and he knows it shows.

Harry’s not better off when Zayn sees him stumble out of Niall’s car. Niall blatantly leaves Harry and Zayn alone, saying goodnight and laughing with his barking sounds, and Liam and Louis do the same, both of them winking at Zayn as they drive off.

Zayn’s happy he got a free day and spent it with his friends, and Harry. Harry smiles at him, and then trips on nothing at all as they make their way inside the hotel.

Zayn laughs and holds him upright, pressing the button to call the lift while Harry slumps against him, giggling and resting his head on top of Zayn’s.

Zayn doesn’t even question it, when they get to his own room. He pulls Harry inside, closing the door behind them, and then they help each other get out of their clothes before crawling under the duvet, too knackered to even think about exchanging more than a few sloppy kisses.

Harry snuffles a bit in the pillow, his eyes glinting in the light coming from the nightstand lamp. He’s on his side, facing Zayn, his fingers carding through Zayn’s loose hair.

“Can I ask you something?” Harry says, whispers it, like he doesn’t want to break the contented silence settling over them.

Zayn nods.

“When did you figure out you were a No-Feeler?”

Zayn sighs. “It’s kinda weird, to be honest. My mum always says I was such an affectionate child, but it’s like, I think it’s just because I grew up surrounded by love, you know? I saw my parents and my oldest sister being affectionate to each other, so I guess I acted the same” he tries to explain as best as he can “We had a dog. Harley. They got him right when I was born, so I grew up with him. He died when I was eight, and… I don’t remember much from when I was so young. But I remember that I didn’t feel anything, when Harley died”

Harry stays quiet for a moment, the sadness in his eyes carving a small hole in Zayn’s heart. “How’d he die?” he asks then.

Zayn tries. He searches for the memory of that day, but when confronted with the question Harry’s asking, Zayn finds that he can’t really remember how it happened. “I… I don’t think I remember” he says, chuckling “I was so young, babe. I think… you remember stuff more clearly when you have actual _feelings_ to link to your memories, don’t you?”

Harry nods. Zayn nods as well. “I forgot a lot of stuff from when I was a kid. It’s ‘cause I didn’t feel anything about those memories to begin with, and when I grew up I didn’t have the memory of what I felt, and couldn’t use it to remember the moment” Zayn says “Doniya remembers when I was nine and I fell off the stairs and broke my arm, because she got really scared. I don’t even remember ever breaking a bone in my life”

Harry sighs and hums, his fingers never leaving Zayn’s hair. “That’s a bit sad” he comments, with the honesty Zayn’s learned to love.

“That I can’t remember my dog dying and breaking my arm?” Zayn chuckles.

Harry chuckles too. “No. That you lost some good memories as well, probably”

Zayn scoots closer to Harry, laughing when Harry’s eyes go a bit cross when their faces are too close. “Yeah” Zayn admits anyway “Like, I remember Safaa being born, although only vaguely. But I’m sure I was inherently happy about it, even if I couldn’t feel it”

“I’m sure you were” Harry nods “You love your family, that much was clear even before you got to actually experience it” he adds, surely, and then he gasps dramatically “Will you forget about me if we don’t see each other for too long?”

Zayn arches an eyebrow. “I’m not a goldfish, Harry”

Harry laughs, and kisses Zayn for a long while before replying. “You’d make an excellent goldfish, though”

Zayn chuckles. “Go to sleep, Harry Styles. We’ve got a show tomorrow”

Harry kisses Zayn again, and giggles. “So bossy. I thought I was the boss”

“Do that thing with your mouth some more, and you can be the boss all you want” Zayn grins.

Harry blushes a little. “Shut up, Zayn” he murmurs, and then falls asleep with his face hidden in the crook of Zayn’s neck.

 

*

 

The rest of the tour goes by quickly, and smoothly.

Zayn has never been that eager to keep moving and keep performing.

He has Harry, lovely Harry with his curls and dimples, grinning at him during the shows and kissing him at the end of it, when they’re alone and giggling and fucking.

He has his fans, becoming more and more every week. His tickets are sold out in the last week of the tour.

The tickets go, but so does Zayn’s happiness.

Zayn can feel it thinning, like whenever he gets Safaa to bake him his favourite cake, and then he eats a slice a day, helplessly watching it go and knowing that he could either keep eating it until it’s gone, or not eat it in a vain attempt to make it last longer, only to let it go bad.

It’s the same now. Harry helps Zayn do whatever he wants with his happiness, to feel it the most, and he’s enjoyed it, he really has, because he knows it’s gonna go anyway, and he doesn’t want to let it go to waste.

It’s still there on the last day of tour, which Zayn counts as a blessing, because he would hate for his fans to see his usual gloomy, robotic self on the last date. It’s there, but Zayn feels how hard it is to make it surface now.

Harry, on the contrary, seems to be happier and more cheerful by the second. Zayn thinks it’s really his fucking luck, that whatever kept Harry sad has started to lose its effect right when Zayn’s happiness is losing its own too.

Harry has never told Zayn why he was sad, but Zayn hasn’t pushed it.

It’s like they’re destined to never be properly happy at the same time. Zayn would hate it, if he could feel hate like a normal person.

The last show is over, and with it, living with Harry is about to be over as well.

Zayn doesn’t know where they stand, because they’ve never talked about an _afterwards_. Everything has always been _right here right now_ with Harry, from the very first day they’ve kissed, and Zayn knows he wouldn’t have had it any other way, but now it’s become a burden more than an attempt at making the most of his happiness.

He wants to have an _afterwards_ with Harry, he knows that much. The feeling of fluttering in his stomach and expanding of his chest has dimmed, but Zayn knows how it feels to have it at its fullest now, and he _wants_ Harry, wants him to _stay with him_ and he wants to try being _enough_ for once.

He wants to be enough more than he ever wanted before.

He wants to ask Harry to have enough feelings for both of them, as he himself said once, a month before.

Zayn also knows just _how_ to ask Harry. So he runs the idea by Andrew, and Andrew almost has a coronary, but then he nods and tells Zayn he can do whatever the fuck he wants, as always is the case with Zayn Malik. Zayn grins, and goes to find Harry in his own room, packing with extreme care whatever stray item of clothing he’s thrown on the armchair during their stay at that last hotel.

Zayn knocks even if the door is open, and Harry turns abruptly, sniffling. “Oh, hey, babe” he says, lowering his head and busying himself with the clothes instead of looking at Zayn.

Zayn sighs, and steps in, closing the door. “Babe? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know” Harry chuckles, wiping his eyes “No, that’s a lie, I do know. I’m… I’m so fucking scared, Zayn”

“Of what?”

“Of you”

Zayn frowns, and sits on the bed. “Harry? Can you look at me?”

Harry does. His eyes are dry, but they’re red, like he’s cried a fair share while Zayn was out of the room. “What do you mean, scared of me?” Zayn asks, sighing.

Harry sniffles a little and sits next to Zayn, finally abandoning his suitcase. “I dunno, Zayn, it’s… everything’s gonna change now that we’re not on tour anymore. And… and I don’t know where we stand, I don’t know what you wanna do, I don’t even know if you _know_ what you wanna do”

Zayn sighs once more, and grabs Harry’s hand, entwining their fingers. “Is this about my happiness being almost gone?”

Harry stutters, but then he nods. “Not because I don’t like you when you don’t have it” he specifies “But… I’m scared you can’t know what you want us to be, if it’s gone”

“Harry” Zayn smiles, and he carefully puts his knuckles under Harry’s chin, to make him raise his head “My happiness hasn’t completely gone away yet. And even now that it’s not that much, and even when it’ll be gone, I know what I want us to be. In fact, I’ve just come to tell you exactly _what_ I want us to be”

Harry waits. His eyes are trained on Zayn’s, but he doesn’t utter a sound until Zayn speaks again.

“There’s a party for the end of my tour tonight” Zayn says “And I want you to come”

Harry sighs unhappily. “Yeah. You don’t need to, like, invite me. We’re your crew, Niall and I were invited anyway”

“I want you to come _as my date_ ” Zayn amends, rolling his eyes and trying to suppress a grin and a stray giggle. His happiness is barely there, but Harry seems to make it stronger anyway.

Harry gasps. His fingers twitch in Zayn’s hand, and Zayn can _hear_ how loud Harry’s heart is thumping. “Are… are you joking?” Harry asks, squeals.

Zayn shrugs. “Nope. People already know I’m bi. I want them to know I’m completely gay for my head tech, now”

Harry chuckles. “This is, like, a lot. But okay, babe. If you want me to be your date, then I’ll accept it”

“Good” Zayn grins “Wear your prettiest sheer shirt and your tightest jeans and put us all to fucking shame. I’ll take care of making sure everybody knows you’re taken anyway”

Harry laughs, and he kisses Zayn, pushing him down until they’re lying on the bed. “We need to leave in ten minutes” Harry huffs, frustrated.

Zayn chuckles. “Don’t worry, babe. If you think that I’ll take you to the party without pulling you and bringing you to my place afterwards, you’re sorely mistaken”

Harry grins, and Zayn recognizes the mirth and the happiness he loved even before knowing anything about Harry in his eyes. “The horror” Harry sighs dramatically.

Zayn laughs. Maybe he can get over not having any feelings, if Harry’s there to have emotions for both of them.

 

*

 

They don’t go together to the party, under Harry’s advice. Zayn doesn’t care about telling the whole world he has a relationship, but Harry has said maybe it’s best if they don’t get papped even arriving together, that night. There’s gonna be enough press _inside_ the party location.

So, when Harry arrives to the club, Zayn’s already there, talking to Liam and Louis.

Zayn assumes Niall looks bomb as well, but he can’t know for sure, because all his attention is stolen by Harry as soon as he steps beyond the threshold of the door.

He’s wearing a suit. Zayn had imagined Harry wasn’t really gonna show up in skinnies and sheer shirt, and he’d also imagined Harry’s suits would be just as flashy, but _God_ , can he pull them off.

The suit is white, patterned with dark leaves, and he’s wearing a black shirt that looks smooth like velvet. He’s smiling at Zayn as he and Niall reach them, and Zayn notices Harry’s hair is in a bun, which is tied with a red silk ribbon.

Zayn chuckles at Harry deciding to _match_ Zayn in such a small detail, and he briefly looks at his own red ribbon tied around his wrist, where it’s always been since he got the happiness. Harry smiles some more, and hugs Zayn, sticking his tongue out at Louis when he makes a comment about Harry being fancier than Zayn himself.

Zayn smells Harry’s cologne, the cologne he loves, and feels like he already smelled it somewhere. It’s not the first time he feels that, but he always forgets to ask Harry which one it is. He’ll ask him later.

“We match” Zayn grins, gesturing at Harry’s red ribbon in his hair.

Harry stutters a bit, and weirdly averts his gaze from Zayn. “Yeah” he just says.

Zayn opens his mouth to ask him what’s wrong, but he can’t, because right then a swarm of journalists drowns him in questions.

And Zayn doesn’t even hear half of them. He just grabs Harry by the lapels of his jacket, and pulls him down to kiss him.

The room seems to go very quiet, and Zayn doesn’t know if it’s because everybody’s watching, or because it’s just what Harry Styles does to him. Either way, he doesn’t care, because Harry’s gently grabbing his face to keep him in place, and he’s smiling in their kiss.

Zayn keeps kissing Harry, and lets the paps and the world have their pictures.

It’s while they’re talking to Andrew and some other people from Zayn’s crew, Harry’s arm wrapped around Zayn’s waist like it belongs there, which it does, that Zayn starts to feel it.

Dullness. A lot of it.

He knows it’s not a bad feeling he’s missing, because in that moment, he has everything he wants. It doesn’t take him long to understand he’s feeling the dullness of happiness, the happiness which is now completely, utterly gone.

He has the sudden urge to get out of the room, pulling Harry with him, to tell him. Harry would hug him tight, maybe even cry a little for Zayn as well. But Zayn doesn’t do any of it, and stays exactly where he is, because it’s showbiz, and there are rules, and he can’t leave his own party, for Christ’s sake.

Harry frowns a little at him, because maybe he notices Zayn’s off. Zayn chuckles grimly, thinking that _off_ is all he’s going to be for Harry, starting exactly now.

“Harry Styles?” someone asks, and they turn.

It’s a pap, his camera hanging from his neck, but he’s not taking any pictures, and just looking at Harry kind of sheepishly, with a notepad in his hand. “Good evening. Um. My name’s Gordon Yates. I know this is gonna sound weird, but my son has been babbling about you and how good of a sound tech you are for the past month” the pap says with a chuckle “So I told him I’d try to get your autograph, if that’s okay”

Harry laughs, and so do Liam, Niall and Louis. Zayn has never felt further away from having a real laugh, but he laughs anyway, not to arise any suspicions.

“Of course” Harry says, retrieving the notepad from Yates’s hand “What’s your son’s name?”

“James”

Harry nods, and opens the notepad. Zayn sees Harry eye him for a split second, but then he’s concentrating on the sheet, his hand scribbling on it.

_James, thank you for your support! All the love, Harry._

Zayn thinks about that way of saying, love makes you stupid.

It’s the only explanation for how fucking _blind_ he’s been.

Because when he sees the words leaving Harry’s pen, impressing themselves on the sheet, Zayn just _knows_. He _understands_ , like he never did before, because he has the same words burned like letters of fire behind his eyelids, for how much he’s read them over and over again.

_My gift to you is happiness. Everybody should know what it feels._

_All the love._

“All the love” Zayn murmurs, probably barely audible.

_All the love._

_All the love._

_All the love._

Zayn doesn’t even register the pap thanking Harry and leaving, because he’s too busy looking at Harry, the beautiful long lines of his body, he inhales Harry’s cologne again, and finally recognizes the scent. It’s the scent of the happiness Zayn drank from an anonymous bottle, a month earlier.

He keeps looking at Harry, and at the fucking red ribbon in his hair.

 _We match_ , Zayn had said at the start of the party.

And they fucking do, and Zayn knows why now.

Zayn has had a lot of practice, learning to recognize what the dullness in his stomach feels.

Now, as he looks at Harry and Harry frowns at him, trying to read whatever it is Zayn _can’t_ feel and _can’t_ show, Zayn understand what this dullness is.

It’s betrayal, disappointment, and sadness, because Harry has never left him, but he’s also never spoken to Zayn.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've never gone this long without posting since I started, sorry about that.  
> It's been a rough week, but as Harry once said, writing is therapeutic, so I'm doing a lot of that now. Expect the end of this story and more stories to come shortly!  
> Let me know what you're thinking :)
> 
> I am also on Tumblr as wont-you-stay-till-the-am.tumblr.com, come hit me up if you wanna talk.


	4. Don't let 'em tie you down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I loved you before, I love you now, and I’ll love you tomorrow even if you won’t ever be able to love me back”  
> “But I do” Zayn replies, and it sounds a bit broken, like Zayn’s voice can’t really convey what he means and he’ll never be able to “I love you too, Harry. Even if I can’t show it. Is it enough? I need it to be enough, babe”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual disclaimer: I don't know or own any of the characters present in this work. I only own the plot and any eventual original character.  
> The title of this chapter, as well as the title of the fic, is taken from _What a feeling_ by One Direction.  
> All the other songs quoted in this work belong to Zayn Malik.  
> One of the scenes was inspired a little by Harry's "heart-rate" interview with Nick Grimshaw. You'll recognize which scene.

 

 

 

Harry is lovely for the rest of the party.

Zayn sees how happy Harry is, how contagious his cheerfulness is to everyone around them, and he wishes that he could be able to let it infect him as well.

Because he knows exactly how it feels, Harry’s happiness.

A lot of details come to him during the party.

He remembers being happy about seeing that god-awful shirt with the aeroplanes print in a shop window, right the day after drinking the happiness. He even thought about Harry’s shirts, that morning. He never knew how close to the truth he’d been.

He remembers noticing Harry’s underlying sadness from that day on. Little did he know, that Harry was sad because he’d given his own happiness away. To Zayn.

He should be glad about it, shouldn’t he? That Harry was so selfless just for Zayn.

The thing is that Zayn can’t be glad on his own, and even if he had the ability to be, he doesn’t know if he would be. Because Zayn also knows how Harry has always had a crush on him, Harry himself has told him that much.

And what if Harry gave him the happiness just to have a better chance with Zayn? The thought itches in Zayn’s brain, makes the dullness in his stomach increase, and Zayn has never been more confused about his lack of feelings.

Harry alternates smiles and frowns at Zayn for the whole evening. Zayn knows that Harry knows him, and he understands Harry must sense there’s something wrong, but Zayn can’t bring himself to tell him anyway.

So he doesn’t.

They dance, even. Zayn has never been that good of a dancer, but Louis and Liam are having the time of their lives, and Niall too, and Harry longingly stares at the dance floor for an hour before Zayn, despite it all, decides to take pity on him and pulls him through the crowd, where they grind on each other in the darkness and the strobe lights, Harry’s smile more blinding than any flash.

Zayn loves him. So much. He can’t fucking feel it anymore. But he knows.

And is it really that bad, never to tell Harry he _knows_ about the happiness? Harry must have had his reasons to hide it, and Zayn doesn’t want all they’ve built to crumble in a pile of dust only because he’s _scared_ that Harry did it just to win him over or something.

He can’t even really _be_ scared, so there’s really no point in this.

Harry’s big hands rest on Zayn’s hips as they move to the beat. Zayn stares at Harry’s face, his bright eyes sparkling under the lights, and he decides he’ll never tell Harry.

They dance, they kiss, Harry sighs on Zayn’s lips.

When the party’s over, Zayn pulls Harry with him and kisses him again in the coat room before they go out and slide in Zayn’s car, the driver taking off straight away and almost running over the paps lurking around them.

Harry’s bun has disappeared, and his hair is loose now, cascading around his face in the curls Zayn’s learned to love. He looks straight out of a photoshoot, slumped against the backrest of the seat, his legs slightly opened, and a hand loosely resting on his thigh.

Zayn sees the red ribbon Harry’s used to tie his hair, peeking out of the front pocket of his jacket.

“What’s wrong, Zayn?” Harry asks, whispers.

Zayn doesn’t really look at him. He keeps his eyes in front of him, with the excuse of checking if the divider between them and the driver is rolled up. It is.

“Nothing much” Zayn answers anyway, and his tone is dull just as the rest of his body “My happiness is gone for good. I think you should know” he adds.

Harry doesn’t react for a moment. Zayn hears him sigh and shift in the seat, and then his hand is on Zayn’s, on his stomach where he’s resting it. Zayn looks at their hands, notices how big Harry’s is, compared to Zayn’s.

“Will you look at me?” Harry asks, sighing again.

Zayn does. He doubts he’ll ever be able to deny Harry anything, if he’s honest, even if he can’t feel anything about it.

Harry’s smiling. “As I said countless times” he says “I don’t really care”

“Don’t you?” Zayn chuckles. It’s fake and bitter.

Harry frowns. “No, I don’t” he replies, his fingers squeezing Zayn’s tighter “I _don’t_ , Zayn” he repeats.

Zayn sighs, and nods. “Sorry, babe” he says “I’m just a bit tired, I guess”

Harry nods too. “We can go to your place and sleep. Or, I can go back to mine. Whatever you want” he says, tentatively.

Zayn doesn’t want him to leave, so he shakes his head. “No. Come to mine. I’m… I don’t think I’m ready to let you go”

Harry smiles. “I’m not going anywhere, babe” he says, and leans over to kiss Zayn.

Zayn sighs in their kiss, his hands going to grab Harry’s face on their own accord, and Harry smiles some more and rests his hands on top of Zayn’s again while they kiss. “I love you, Zayn” Harry murmurs “I loved you before, I love you now, and I’ll love you tomorrow even if you won’t ever be able to love me back”

“But I do” Zayn replies, and it sounds a bit broken, like Zayn’s voice can’t really convey what he means and he’ll never be able to “I love you too, Harry. Even if I can’t show it. Is it enough? I need it to be enough, babe”

Harry nods. “It’s more than enough” he assures.

Zayn doesn’t know if he can believe him, but he takes it anyway, because he doesn’t know what else to do about it.

 

*

 

Zayn hasn’t seen Rhino in a month, if you don’t count the videocalls to his mum where she showed him to Zayn. He smiles when he opens the door and hears the fuss coming his way, because he knows his mum has brought Rhino back to his house a couple hours ago, to make sure he would be there for Zayn when he first got back home.

He barely has time to crack the door open, and suddenly Rhino is on him, panting and whining until Zayn laughs and crouches over him. The dog is so excited he tackles Zayn instantly, making him fall on his back on the threshold and licking his whole face.

“Oh, hi!” Zayn hears Harry coo, and he can’t help raising his head a little bit from where he lays on the floor, to smile at him.

Harry’s towering over him and Rhino, and Zayn sees him upside-down, his smile curved in a weird angle from there. “Babe, this is Rhino” he says, grins, and kinda wishes he could still have had his happiness the moment he introduced Harry to Rhino.

Harry coos, and crouches next to them, bringing a hand out for Rhino to sniff it.

“Watch out for your suit. He drools a lot” Zayn warns Harry.

Harry shrugs. “I don’t care” he replies.

Rhino decides Harry is good on the spot, and then shamelessly throws himself at him, tackling him too and licking his whole face as well. Zayn gapes a little, because Rhino is usually shy with strangers, but he guesses it’s just fair, that the dog is smitten with this lad just as his human is.

Harry laughs with his lovely, barking sound, his eyes crinkled as he lets Rhino do as he pleases with him. Zayn watches him, a bit mesmerized as he sits down right under his porch, and wishes he could have been happy when he finally got to see Harry being happy himself.

If there ever were any doubts about Harry being his anonymous donor, they’ve all been dismissed now. Because Harry has started being his old, careless, happy self again the very moment Zayn has felt his happiness leave for good.

“Babe?” Harry calls him, sitting up with Rhino in his lap “Are you okay?”

Zayn nods, and smiles. “Tired” he replies, lying, but just a little. He is very tired. Of a lot of things, he reckons.

“Please let me play with him some more and then we can go to sleep?” Harry asks, with a pout so fucking cute Zayn would probably have an aneurysm about it, if it could generate any feelings in him.

As it is, Zayn knows what Harry’s pout does to him anyway, because he’s had more than enough time to succumb to it while he could. So he chuckles and stands up, helping Harry up as well. “You do whatever you want, babe” he says “But inside the house. It’s cold and your suit is gorgeous, but not that thick”

Harry laughs and follows him, with Rhino on tow. Zayn locks the door once they’re all inside, and turns on the lights.

Harry looks around and leaves his shoes by the shoe rack, where Zayn also gets rid of his, and then keeps following him through the living room and up the stairs, to Zayn’s bedroom.

Harry smiles at Zayn in the corridor. “You can go have a shower and I can take care of Rhino’s food and water?” he asks, pointing at the door to Rhino’s room with his head.

Zayn frowns. “How do you know that’s the room for Rhino?”

Harry laughs sheepishly. “A house this big and the fact you seem to care more about your dog than about yourself kinda made me think you’d have a whole room for him, rather than having a guest room like normal people”

Zayn laughs. “Yeah, I guess you’re right” he concedes “Okay then. Food’s in the cabinet and you can give him water from the tap?”

Harry nods. “Okay”

Zayn nods too. He can feel tension radiating from Harry in the way he’s wringing his fingers and twisting the rings on them, and he doesn’t know how to dissipate it. He would be tense himself if he could, but he can’t, and he doesn’t want Harry to be either.

They stay silent for a moment, during which Rhino trots to his room, the delicate _thud_ of his paws on the linoleum being the only sound in the corridor until even that is gone.

“Zayn?” Harry asks.

Zayn hums questioningly, his stomach churning a bit at the thought that maybe Harry’s about to tell him. _I’m the one who made you happy, Zayn, and I want you to know it_. That’s everything Zayn wants to hear right now.

Harry doesn’t speak, though. He just covers the distance between him and Zayn in one long stride, and backs Zayn into the wall, kissing him slowly and with his hand cupping Zayn’s jaw, delicate fingers ghosting on his right cheekbone.

Zayn gives in, because he knows he wants to. “What if I can’t feel anything good ever again?” he finds himself asking, dull and robotic and wishing he could really _show_ Harry how upset and scared he would feel if he could.

Harry shakes his head. “I don’t care. This is you. I want you for yourself” he replies.

Zayn thinks it’s really true, that you can’t miss something you’ve never had. Because he’s never even known how he really missed happiness before trying it. Now that he knows what it feels, though, he misses it like a limb, because happiness is what he would feel at Harry’s words, if he still had it.

He doesn’t know how to show Harry, so he does the only thing that he can really _want_ , and sinks on his knees in front of Harry after slowly shoving him into the wall.

“Zayn” Harry sighs “We don’t…”

“I want to” Zayn replies, raising his head to look at Harry in the eyes “It’s the only thing I can want now. Is it enough? I need it to be enough, Harry”

Harry nods furiously. “It’s enough, everything is enough, _you_ are enough, Zayn, and I wish you could believe me”

Zayn smiles despite the dullness in his stomach increasing. He doesn’t even know what he would feel anymore, everything is always spinning and turning with Harry, and he knows he’s disappointed and hurt by Harry basically lying to him for all the time he’s hidden his ‘donation’, but he also knows he doesn’t have any other place he’d rather be than right there, kneeling in front of Harry with his hands undoing the button of his trousers.

The depth and complications of whatever it is he can’t feel are for another time, he decides.

Harry’s hard in his suit, and Zayn is too, because it really looks fucking good on Harry, even with the trousers open and his hard cock out.

He leaves Harry’s suit on. The white jacket with the leaves printed, the black velvet shirt, and even the trousers stay in place. Zayn smirks at how worked up Harry looks already. “You said you didn’t care about the suit” he reminds Harry, slowly starting to stroke him, smearing the precum along the length of him.

Harry takes in a sharp breath. “I don’t. I don’t care about anything. Just you. Just you, Zayn” he murmurs, his eyes closing and his head leaning into the wall.

Zayn chuckles. “Look at me” he says.

Harry does. He brings his head forward again, and stares at Zayn right in the eyes.

“Fuck my mouth” Zayn demands, sitting on his haunches and waiting.

Harry’s eyes shoot open. “Zayn? Are… are you sure? You don’t…”

“Make me _feel_ something, Harry” Zayn says, harsher than he originally intended “This is the only thing I can feel. Is it enough?”

Harry nods. “Stop asking if it’s enough. It is”

“Is it enough, Harry?” Zayn asks again, their eyes still locked.

Harry groans. “Stop asking”

“Make me” Zayn dares him.

Harry’s eyes flash a little at that, and Zayn counts it as a victory, that he managed to make Harry loose his cool and sweet attitude for once. He doesn’t know if he did it because he’s angry at Harry for lying and hiding, or because he loves him so much he wants to utterly wreck him.

Either way, he’s getting what he wants, because Harry’s eyes roll back in his head a little bit, and the next moment his hand is grabbing a fistful of Zayn’s hair, and he’s feeding his cock to Zayn’s open, expectant mouth.

Harry’s rough with it, and Zayn loves it, he knows it by how much he likes feeling Harry force his dick down his throat, and by how his own erection is straining against his still perfectly buttoned trousers.

“Fuck, Zayn” Harry hisses “You have no idea what you do to me” he adds, groaning as his cock slides in and out of Zayn’s mouth.

Zayn seals his lips better around it, sucking in earnest and making Harry’s legs tremble. He grabs Harry’s hips, just for balance, but without stopping his thrusts. He briefly hopes Rhino doesn’t come out of his room, he doesn’t want to traumatise his baby.

But Zayn is really loving making a mess out of Harry, and he is managing, because Harry’s moaning uncontrollably now, and Zayn’s got spit trickling down his chin, and he’s relaxing his throat as much as he can to let Harry do as he pleases.

It takes him just a moment of more energetic swallowing around Harry’s dick, and he hears him groan louder. “I’m gonna come, Zayn, I’m gonna come”

Zayn nods, and keeps sucking.

Harry grunts, and comes, hot come running down Zayn’s throat. He lets Harry’s dick go, and then keeps his eyes on Harry’s as he swallows everything that’s pooled in his mouth.

Harry’s eyes roll back in his head once more, and then he slumps on the floor, panting and staring at Zayn like he can’t believe what just happened.

Zayn grins. “Why so surprised? ‘S not the first time I’ve given you head”

Harry chuckles. “You… you were _looking_ at me like you… like you were really… _enjoying_ it” he says, a bit in disbelief.

Zayn shrugs. “I can still enjoy sex” he says “And I know from past experience that I’m glad to enjoy it with you, specifically”

Harry smiles. “I’m glad to hear it” he retorts.

“Are you?” Zayn asks, listening to how rough his own voice has become “Happy?”

Harry blinks a couple of times and frowns for a split second before replying. “Yeah, babe. I am”

“Will you tell me why you were sad, before?” Zayn presses.

Harry smiles, and strokes Zayn’s hair, taking it out of his eyes. “Yeah, Zayn. Some day I’ll tell you”

 _I want you to tell me now_ , Zayn doesn’t say. He sighs, and kisses Harry, because he doesn’t know what else to do, really.

The stomping of paws interrupts them and tells them Rhino is tired of waiting for them in his room.

“Oh, fuck” Harry hisses, pushing Zayn away and quickly tucking himself back into his trousers.

Zayn laughs. It still comes to him more easily, when he’s with Harry. “I think we just scarred my dog for life” he comments.

“Zayn!” Harry grunts “Don’t even _say_ it”

Rhino barks. “Sorry, Rhino” Harry coos, crawling to him on all-fours and pushing Zayn away with a grin “I’ll come get your food” he adds, and then looks back at Zayn “Go have that shower. You need it. Cleanse yourself of the sins you just committed in front of your baby”

Zayn laughs again. “So fucking dramatic”

“I’ll be dramatic for both of us, then” Harry grins.

Zayn doesn’t reply, but he tries to keep the smile on for Harry’s sake, because he desperately wants to really be enough for him.

 

*

 

Zayn wakes up to sunlight filtering through his curtains and hitting him in the face the next morning.

As he slowly comes to, the first thing he sees is Harry’s beautiful profile. He’s sitting with his back propped against the pillows, the paleness of his torso enhanced by the sunlight glowing all over him, and he’s looking at something on his phone, scrolling the screen with his thumb and his eyes running over it, clear and green and beautiful.

It’s the first time Zayn wakes up beside Harry and doesn’t feel anything about it, he realizes. “Morning” he slurs anyway, rolling on his side without raising his face from the pillow “What are you looking at?”

Harry turns abruptly to look at Zayn, his cheeks gaining colour like Zayn caught him red-handed in something. “Hey. Morning. Nothing”

Zayn arches an eyebrow. “’S not nothing. You’re blushing”

“I’m not”

“You are” Zayn insists, sitting up “What’s happening?”

Harry sighs, half a smile sitting on his face. “We, um. Made the news. Last night” he says, handing his phone to Zayn.

Zayn takes it, and quickly scrolls through the article. _Zayn Malik introduces his new fling to the world_ , is the title.

“Doesn’t even say your name” he mutters. The pictures of Zayn kissing Harry are apparently everywhere, a quick Google search with his own name tells him.

Harry chuckles nervously. “Yep” he says.

Zayn frowns. “What?”

Harry shrugs. “A fling”

Zayn frowns deeper. Harry doesn’t seem happy about it. Maybe he doesn’t want the attention, after all? Zayn thinks that’s too bad, because there’s no going back now, and if Harry didn’t want to be thrown into the tabloids, he should have said it earlier.

Harry shrugs again, but then he takes a deep breath and looks at Zayn in the eyes. “I know you can’t have feelings about it, so I guess I have to tell you explicitly” he says “It’s the ‘fling’ thing. I’m not… just a fling, am I, Zayn?”

Zayn finally understands the problem, and finds himself cursing his lack of emotions, because it’s always harder to read other people’s feelings as well, when he doesn’t have any of his own. “Fuck, Harry, babe, no!” he exclaims “You… you’ve never been a fling. You’ll never be. It’s just bullshit, Haz, it’s the press. They’ll always gonna speculate. You’re not a fucking fling, I just introduced you to my _dog_!”

Harry chuckles and nods. “Okay. Okay. Sorry. I had to ask. It’s… It’s more complicated to read you, now. But it’s okay!” he amends, raising his hands “It’s okay, it’s perfect. I just needed the reassurance, my brain was getting all whacky about it”

Zayn chuckles too. The dullness has never been stronger, and he knows it’s all good things, it’s the fact that he loves Harry, the fact that Harry wants to be _enough_ for Zayn just like Zayn wants to be _enough_ for Harry. “We make quite the pair, don’t we?” Zayn comments “The robot and the whacko”

Harry gasps. “Don’t ever fucking _say_ that again” he says, more seriously than the light-hearted tone of Zayn’s comment requires “You’re not a fucking robot. You’re okay. You’re perfect”

Zayn grins, and slowly crawls over Harry until he’s straddling him. “I think I’d be even more perfect riding your dick” he whispers “Like, now”

Harry gasps and laughs and gets hard in an instant. “You’re a menace” he murmurs on Zayn’s lips.

 

*

 

That’s how the next three days go.

They stay at Zayn’s place, sleeping, eating, showering and fucking.

They play with Rhino in the backyard.

Harry begs Zayn to fill the pool, and they take swims under the sun (Zayn stays in the shallow end and shoves Harry in the pool wall when Harry becomes too smug about it, snogging the shit out of him).

Zayn writes some new music. One of his new songs, _Golden_ , is for Harry, and Harry loves it.

Harry fixes the speakers in Zayn’s home theatre, because “I can’t believe you have _this_ in your place and you don’t care about how to make the most of it, Zayn”.

Doniya visits Zayn one afternoon, and Harry cries when he sees how big Hakim has already gotten. Zayn smiles, though, and he feels like Harry is really taking care of having emotions for both of them.

Zayn gets tired of Harry’s sulky pout whenever a new article about ‘Zayn Malik’s new fling’ pops out, so he takes a picture of Harry sitting cross-legged on one of the sunbeds by the pool showing off a dimpled bright smile, and posts it on Instagram captioning it _Sweetest fling I’ve ever had_.

Harry shrieks when he sees it, and then freaks out about it being too much and Andrew getting pissed at Zayn, but the whole strop ends with Harry on his hands and knees in the middle of the mattress, and Zayn fucking him from behind while he whispers in Harry’s ear that no press will ever see _him_ like this, so it’s a win-win.

Zayn doesn’t forget about the big detail Harry’s hiding from him, but he doesn’t think much about it either. Because it’s true that Harry basically lied to Zayn, but Zayn luckily can’t be mad about it, and is it really that bad, after all? Harry just did something nice for Zayn, and Zayn should just be grateful and forget about the whole deal.

So Zayn doesn’t think about it anymore, for the whole three days they spend holed up at Zayn’s place, enjoying the break.

That is, until the three days pass, and Zayn has an interview and performance at Radio 1, and Nick Grimshaw gets involved.

 

*

 

Zayn wouldn’t stand Nick Grimshaw, if he could have feelings about him.

There’s something in the sleazy way he asks the questions, in the dirtiness of his grin, that just makes Zayn uncomfortable, a weird dullness setting low in his stomach in the place of a feeling he can’t exactly pinpoint.

Also, the games Grimmy plays during his interviews don’t amuse anyone but himself.

Like this fucking heart-rate thing. What is Grimmy expecting, considering that Zayn _can’t_ be bothered by anything?

Harry’s there, behind the glass divider, setting up the room where Zayn is going to go in a while to perform _Golden_. Harry loves the song, so Zayn decided to perform it for the first time on this occasion.

But for now, Zayn’s there, sitting in front of Nick Grimshaw with headphones on his ears and a big microphone in his face, and someone set heart-rate monitors on his chest, linking them to a screen showing Zayn’s heartbeat.

“Okay, so, your normal heart-rate is about 65” Grimmy says with a grin.

“Yeah, I guess?” Zayn chuckles.

Nick nods. “So, I have themes here in my notepad, and I’m going to show you pictures, to try and find something that fazes you, Zayn Malik” he announces.

Zayn shrugs. “Good luck, my friend” he says “I still have to find something like that myself”

Nick laughs. “Well then, let’s start. The first picture is two people, two of your closest friends, here exchanging a steamy kiss on a beach in Mallorca” he says, and promptly shows Zayn a picture of Liam and Louis, indeed kissing “What do you think about Louis Tomlinson and Liam Payne?”

Zayn chuckles. His heart-rate stays stable, but he can feel a smile rise on his lips even though his stomach is just full of dullness for his friends. “They’re indeed my closest friends” Zayn declares “What else am I gonna think about them?”

“Do you approve of their relationship?” Grimmy asks “It’s been what, a year?”

“A year and five months” Zayn corrects him “And I don’t think relationships should be something for someone else to approve of”

Zayn dares send a glance to Harry behind the glass, and finds him there, listening, with a small smile on his face. Zayn discreetly winks at him, and sees Harry blush.

Nick nods with an impressed expression, and goes through a couple more pics, one figuring Zayn himself on stage, and another one with his whole family. Zayn’s heart doesn’t falter.

Zayn should honestly have expected it, when the last picture comes to the surface. Nick grins in that obnoxious way of his, and stares at Zayn right in the eyes. “Of course we have to address the most pressing matter now, with the pictures of you and your new partner going about every news website”

“Do we have to?” Zayn grins back “I believe there’s been enough said about that”

“Not from you though” Nick laughs “So, last picture. How does Harry Styles make you feel?”

Nick shows Zayn a picture of Harry, at his end of the tour party, wearing his white suit printed with black leaves, his hair loose as he leans into a wall with a glass in his hand, one dimple showing.

Zayn’s heart-rate stays at its basic 65.

Zayn smiles. “I love him very much” he just says, and he keeps his eyes trained on Nick, because he knows Harry’s there and he’s listening, and Zayn doesn’t want to give Grimshaw the satisfaction of seeing Zayn look for Harry’s support.

“Do you, though?” Nick quips “One would think your heart would at least jump a little for the love of your life”

Zayn’s dullness is back in full force. “I can’t feel anything, Grimmy” he says, honestly, not even caring that they’re on national radio “I don’t think my heart is able to jump”

Nick hums. “Then how do you know you love him? Can you tell us how that works, with you being a No-Feeler?”

“I don’t think I’ll answer this question” Zayn replies, trying to maintain a light-hearted tone. He feels far from that, even though he can’t really feel anything about it.

“I mean, he’s obviously a very handsome fella” Nick barrels on, oblivious to Andrew signalling him to fucking drop it.

Zayn clears his throat. “He is” he just says.

“And to the whole nation listening to us, I can just confirm it now that I’ve seen him up close and in person” Nick adds, smirking towards the direction where Zayn knows Harry’s standing.

Zayn doesn’t really know how, but it’s right then that the machine signals an acceleration of his heartbeat. It’s not much, just from 65 to 70, but the _beep_ unequivocally brings Nick’s attention to it, and Zayn sees him grin and laugh. “There we go, a little of sane jealousy”

Zayn shakes his head at him, without speaking. Nick seems unfazed, but the game is finally over, and so is the interview. Nick makes quick work of wrapping it up and announcing Zayn about to perform _Golden_ , and Zayn is even quicker to say a fake cheerful goodbye to the listeners and stand up.

Once their mics are turned off and the next song is playing for the radio, Zayn stares at Grimshaw. “I don’t appreciate you making fun of my private life” he just says.

Grimmy shrugs. “’S my job. And anyway, I wasn’t telling any lies. Your… _boyfriend_ , he’s really fucking fit”

Zayn shakes his head. “You’re being really inappropriate, mate”

Nick shrugs again and doesn’t answer, and Zayn gets away from him, entering the room where Harry is. Was. Zayn can’t see him anymore, the room is empty except for the baby grand piano in the middle of it, where the mic has been positioned by Harry on the music stand.

Zayn sighs, knowing that he doesn’t have time to go look for Harry before he’s due to play. He sits on the stool and waits for someone to give him the start signal, but right that moment Harry comes in the room again, his face unreadable and a pair of slim headphones around his neck.

“Sorry, let me just…” he mutters, leaning over the mic on the music stand to twist it some, positioning it again.

Zayn has spent enough time with Harry to know that whole movement is completely useless.

He smiles. “Haz, babe?”

“Hm?” Harry hums, without looking at him.

“It’s nothing” Zayn sighs “Grimmy’s just over the top. You know I do love you even if my heart doesn’t jump for you, yeah?”

Harry sighs a smile. “Yeah” he says. He doesn’t look particularly convinced, though.

Zayn lets it go, deciding to take care of Harry and his feelings afterwards, when they’re properly alone.

Harry goes away, and someone gives Zayn a thumbs up, so he starts playing the song, hoping to be done with this whole fucking day as soon as possible.

Harry stays right behind the window of the room, staring at Zayn. So when Zayn starts singing, he tries to let his song tell Harry all the things he can’t feel. That Harry’s golden to him, that his happiness is too, that Zayn can’t feel how much he loves Harry, but he made a choice to love him anyway.

_Every single jigsaw piece_

_Seems to be incomplete_

_The choices we make change the path that we take_

_But I know_

_That somewhere out there there’s a path that we chose_

_There’s a life that we share, there’s a love and it grows_

It’s by the final chorus that Zayn raises his head from the piano, because he’s not that good at playing it that he can avert his gaze from the keys for too long. When he does tilt his eyes, though, Harry isn’t by the window anymore. Zayn frowns, but finishes the song without incident, murmuring a “Thank you” for the listeners and then standing up.

He leaves the room, and well, Harry’s right behind the door anyway.

Talking to Grimmy.

Harry seems to be a bit uncomfortable, to be honest, but Zayn can’t care much about it, because what he notices immediately is that Nick Grimshaw is fucking _flirting_ with Harry.

It’s clear from the way he’s leaning into the wall where Harry’s resting his back, too close to him, Harry’s whole body trying to retreat into it while Nick almost presses him backwards. They aren’t touching, but they might as well be, Nick’s hips cocked forward and his sleazy grin curving his lips.

Zayn thinks that Harry might be better off with someone like Nick anyway, if he can be honest with himself.

Nick can properly laugh at his awful jokes, he can maybe even tell him he loves him and mean it.

Zayn can’t.

Nick says something, and Harry chuckles, clearing his throat, completely oblivious to Zayn standing right there, the song long over.

The song Zayn wrote for him.

What do you feel in this case? Do you need to be angry or sad? Disappointed or jealous? All of the above?

Zayn doesn’t know, and he never will, and Harry doesn’t even know what he got himself into. He’ll come to loathe Zayn and his lack of emotions, like Perrie, like Ben.

He can tell Zayn that he’s enough all he wants, it’s not something Harry can control anyway.

So Zayn lets Harry talk to Grimmy, lets Grimmy flirt with him, and goes out after shaking hands with the rest of the radio staff, looking for his cigarettes and lighting one as soon as his feet step over the threshold of the building.

Andrew’s there, talking to Niall and a girl who Zayn thinks just joined his crew, he doesn’t really know for sure.

“I wanna go home” Zayn says, to Andrew, to no one.

Andrew frowns. “Yes, the bus is ready, let’s just wait for Harry to gather the last things and then we’ll go”

“I’ll take a cab. I wanna go home now” Zayn clarifies. It’s a bit weird, that every time he thinks the dullness has reached its worst, it gets a bit worse.

“Zayn?” Niall tries. His blue eyes are clouded with worry.

Zayn takes a drag from his cigarette. “Your friend’s inside. Tell him I needed to go” he says.

He doesn’t even know why he’s blaming Harry. Harry wasn’t objectively doing anything, he looked even uncomfortable abou Nick’s heavy flirting, it’s not like he was flirting back, and Zayn knows.

But it’s just too much, Zayn guesses. He can’t feel things, but he still understands what’s happening. Everything’s coming back, Harry lying to him, Harry giving him his happiness because he had a crush on Zayn and he knew there was no chance Zayn was gonna let him in without being able to feel it.

And that is the real problem, the real reason why Harry lied to Zayn. To get him.

Harry will eventually forget about Zayn, and he’ll be happy with someone that will be able to be happy with him. Zayn hopes for him that it’s not Grimmy, though.

“I wanna go now” Zayn repeats, and Andrew sighs, nodding and dialling a number on his phone, probably calling a driver.

Zayn’s cigarette is over.

“Fucking hell” Harry’s drawl announces his presence as he gets out of the building, and _fuck_ , Grimmy couldn’t even give Zayn _this_ and just keep flirting with Harry a little bit more, to let Zayn get out of everything.

“Oh, there you are” Harry says, probably to Zayn, but Zayn can’t know for sure, because he’s not looking at Harry.

It’s too much, the dullness. It feels like even that has come to its limit.

A familiar hand squeezes Zayn’s arm a little. “I loved the song” Harry says “Like every time” he adds with a chuckle.

“Did you?” Zayn The Robot asks “I saw you were busy”

It’s petty and Harry doesn’t deserve it, but petty is one of the few things Zayn can be on his own, so he’ll give it to Harry anyway.

Harry’s hand falls from his arm. “Zayn?”

“Harry?” Zayn replies, crushing the cigarette butt under the tip of his boot, and still avoiding Harry’s gaze.

Harry doesn’t have time to say anything, because a slick black car pulls over, and Zayn doesn’t, _can’t_ , spare him a single glance before going for the backseat door and opening it. “See you” he says to no one, and slides in the car.

Less than a second later, the other backseat door opens, and Harry jumps in.

“I need to go home” Zayn tells him.

Harry nods. “Okay. Let’s go home then”

“Alone”

“No” Harry retorts with a stubborn tilt to his voice.

“Harry”

“Zayn”

They’re not looking at each other, or better, Zayn’s still not looking at Harry. It feels like Zayn hasn’t looked at Harry for months. But Zayn’s tired, and he knows just how stubborn Harry can be, so he sighs and nods at the driver who’s still waiting. “We can go. My place” he says.

The driver nods, and takes off, rolling up the divider in what Zayn reckons to be a good call.

“Zayn, it was nothing, you know that, right?” Harry says as soon as the black divider is up “I don’t even know that guy, Grimshaw. He was flirting with me and it was very awkward and I wanted to ignore him or leave but I couldn’t because it would have been rude and bad for you too, since I’m part of your crew”

But Grimmy’s not really the problem, isn’t it? It’s all the rest, and Harry might as well know now.

“What a coincidence that you found a red ribbon that matched mine, right? And, did you know that good emotions sometimes smell like their owner?” Zayn asks Harry in return, ignoring whatever he said. He looks at Harry then, and sees the realization and the panic and a lot of other things written on his face, in his eyes.

Harry stutters, but doesn’t reply.

Zayn nods and leans more into the backrest, turning his head to stare in front of him and not at Harry anymore. “Didn’t think so” he murmurs.

Harry still doesn’t answer.

 

*

 

When the driver leaves both of them at Zayn’s place, they’re still not talking. The red and black donation box catches Zayn’s attention, because the arrow is pointing downwards, telling him someone left him emotions.

Zayn ignores it. He’s never taken any emotion after Harry’s happiness, and he doesn’t know if he ever will. He doesn’t know how bad it’ll be, to experience the bad feelings after knowing what the good ones feel like.

Harry mutely follows him to the door and inside the house. Rhino trots to them, panting and barking, and Zayn takes a moment to crouch and pet him, kissing him on his big head and trying to fucking show at least him that he loves him. He fails, of course.

Rhino then proceeds to demand the same treatment from Harry. Harry kneels and pets him, scratching him behind his hears. “Hello, baby” he says.

“It speaks” Zayn murmurs, with no heat behind his words, and wishing there was some.

Harry’s mouth snaps shut so hard that his teeth clink. He stops petting Rhino and stands up when Zayn does, facing him. “Zayn… Can… Can we talk about this?”

Zayn shrugs. “Okay” he says.

Harry stares at him, a bit at a loss by Zayn’s answer, but that’s all he can get, isn’t it? Zayn can’t really care, can’t really have a fight about this, no matter how much he wishes he could.

“How long have you known?” Harry asks.

“My party” Zayn replies surely “The ribbon. _All the love_. And the happiness smelled like your cologne. The one I always wanted to ask you about, but I always forgot about because I was always too busy letting you fuck me and fucking you”

Harry recoils a little bit. Zayn knows he can’t convey any feeling with his words, but that’s why he chose to be mean with them. So that Harry gets it. That Zayn would be angry if he could.

“Zayn, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you” Harry sighs, and his eyes are watering, and Zayn almost believes him.

But he doesn’t, not really. “It’s okay. I get it” Zayn says.

Harry frowns. “You do?” he asks “Zayn, please, I need you to tell me what you think. I… I can’t understand what you’re feeling if you don’t tell me”

“I don’t feel _shit_ , Haz” Zayn replies “I can’t, not ever again. But it’s okay, I get why you didn’t tell me, why you hid it. You wanted me, didn’t you?”

“What do you mean?” Harry frowns deeper, taking a step backwards.

Zayn shrugs. “You wanted me before I even saw you, you said as much. So you gave me your happiness so that you would have a chance with me. I can’t really blame you. I would probably never have spoken to you otherwise”

“ _What?!_ ” Harry hisses, screams. Rhino whines a little between them. “What the _fuck_ are you saying, Zayn? That I gave you my happiness to _get_ you? Are you serious right now?”

Zayn shrugs again. “I get it. It’s okay, even. We can still be together. I can’t really get mad. So if you really want me, I’ll pretend none of this happened”

“But it is happening, Zayn” Harry says, and it would scare Zayn a little if it was an option, because his tone is dull and cold like Zayn’s, only it doesn’t suit Harry well at all. “It is happening, because you think I’d do something so important for a reason as frivolous as getting dick, and you’re breaking my fucking heart right now”

“You would have broken mine the night of the party. I was only lucky your happiness was gone by that point” Zayn replies.

Harry chuckles, bitterly and horribly. “Lucky. You think you’re lucky? You aren’t, Zayn. Because you can’t feel anything, and that’s okay, but this also means you don’t understand _shit_ about what other people feel _for you_. And I’m sorry for you, so very sorry, because you’ll never get it. I haven’t been with you _despite_ your lack of feelings. I’ve been with you _because_ of it. Because that just makes you _you_ , and I love that. But after this, I don’t know if I still think that’s a good thing” he speaks slowly, quietly, his eyes trained on Zayn’s while he keeps backing off.

Zayn really doesn’t want him to leave, but he can’t stop it, can’t show Harry that he wants him.

Harry shakes his head, setting a hand on the doorknob. “This is not like Ben, Zayn” he warns him “I’m not leaving ‘cause you’re a No-Feeler. I’m leaving because you just used it against me, when it was the only thing that made me want you in the first place”

After that, Harry’s gone.

Rhino is the only one in the house who cries about it.

 

*

 

At first, Zayn writes a song. He calls it _Satisfaction_ , and he writes it with Harry’s tears burned in the inside of his eyelids, without even thinking about any music, just a flow of words from his pen to the paper of the notebook Harry himself has given him as a present. The cover is dark blue with yellow leaves printed on it, which could be one of Harry’s shirts as well.

_Nobody said this would be easy_

_Nobody said this would be hard_

_Nobody gave me a rulebook to follow_

_And my soul’s not hollow_

_You see, we gotta find our place_

_And we’ll go there now_

_I can’t get no satisfaction alone_

Zayn doesn’t complete it. The dullness in his stomach is almost something painful now, and he can’t deal with it, doesn’t know how. He tries to write a second verse, and the words fail to come to him.

He tries to play with Rhino, but Rhino isn’t in the mood.

He calls Doniya, but she doesn’t answer her phone. Then he remembers she had a doctor appointment for Hakim, to check everything’s fine with him, so he doesn’t try to call her again.

Waliyha is on a trip with her uni mates, so Zayn doesn’t even try her.

He calls Safaa. She answers on the first ring, his baby, the light of his life in a sea of dullness. “What’s wrong, bro? I’ve been having a bad feeling the whole day” she says upon opening the conversation.

Zayn chuckles. “At least you can feel something” he replies.

“’S not funny, you dickhead” she mumbles “What happened?”

Zayn can’t tell her, he realizes. He doesn’t know how to explain it, and doesn’t want her to tell him he’s a massive shithead, because she totally would. “Nothing, jaan. Just wanted to see how you were doing”

Safaa hums. “Want me to bake you an apple cake tomorrow? I can come with the first train” she just asks.

Zayn chuckles. “I love you” he says, and he means it, even though he can’t.

Safaa never doubted that Zayn always means it, though, and she chuckles. “I love you too. I’ll be there at… wait, lemme check the timetable… okay, yeah, I’ll be there at 2 p.m., that okay?”

“Yeah” Zayn sighs “Thanks, jaan. Appreciate it”

“I know right? Best little sister in the world, I swear” she giggles “Take care, Zee. See you tomorrow. Love you”

“Love you too” Zayn replies, and ends the call.

Zayn roams around the house for the rest of the day. He smokes a whole packet, declines all of Andrew’s calls, texting him that he’s fine and he wants to be left alone for a while, and then texts Louis the same thing after he starts blowing Zayn’s phone up with calls as well.

He then drops the fucking device in a drawer of his nightstand, and roams the house some more.

It’s around ten in the evening that his gaze casually lands on the donation box with the arrow still pointing downwards.

And the thing is that exactly, isn’t it. Zayn needs to feel it, Harry’s absence, the empty hole he left in Zayn’s rachitic heart. Because he knows he loves Harry, and he knows he would be destroyed by him leaving if he could feel it, and maybe that’s exactly the point.

Zayn _needs_ , _wants_ , to be destroyed by it, because at least he’d feel _something_.

He stumbles out the door, running to the donation box like a junkie towards a batch of good coke, and tears the little door open. It falls from its hinges, not making any sound when it lands in the grass. Zayn doesn’t care.

There are four dark bottles inside of it, all of them anonymous, not that Zayn really cares about that either. He’d never cared before Harry, and never will after.

The four bottles are small, and labelled.

_Anger._

_Sadness._

_Disappointment._

_Worry._

Zayn drinks all four of them.

They kick in super fast, and he runs back inside, a hand clutching his chest where his heart is starting to thump unevenly. Zayn welcomes the heartache like an old friend, like he would welcome Harry if he were so stupid to come back to Zayn.

He doesn’t.

 

*

 

The first thing Zayn does with his sadness is cry. He falls on his knees in the living room as soon as he sees Rhino coming towards him, and he cries, hugging the dog and sobbing uncontrollably with his face in his fur. The hiccups break his breath, and Zayn cares, this time, because now he can.

The worry makes him care about Harry leaving, makes him scared that he’ll never come back, and scared that one day he’ll see him with someone else, someone who will be enough.

The anger kicks in right after that, and Zayn breaks three pens when he gets frustrated about not knowing how to finish the song.

At two in the morning, the disappointment helps him finish the fucking song. He thinks about Harry getting angry and hurt about Zayn thinking that he would give him his happiness just to get him. Harry was hurt about that, but it’s not like he gave Zayn another reason anyway.

So Zayn was probably right.

He finishes the song, and stores it in his notebook, for some music to be added to it later on.

The sadness takes over again shortly after, and Zayn cries himself to sleep, letting Rhino climb into bed to him and already regretting it because it’ll be hard to teach him not to jump on the bed again now. Zayn is angry at himself for that weakness, too.

 

*

 

He sleeps. A lot. He wakes up, cries, goes back to sleep.

Until he wakes up at sounds being made in the house, while Rhino is still nestled next to him, and he irrationally thinks it’s Harry cluttering about in the kitchen downstairs.

His reaction is to cry some more, his heart torn between _I don’t want to talk to you_ and _Please come here and hug me_.

But it’s not Harry, it can’t be. Harry doesn’t have the keys to his house.

Safaa does, though, and Zayn remembers her telling him she would come in the afternoon. The clock says 3:15.

Zayn gets dressed, but then he’s overwhelmed by his fake feelings again, and crawls back under the covers, shaken by sobs and hiccups.

That’s how Safaa finds him, and he feels ashamed about it.

Maybe it’s a side-feeling, the shame. Zayn’s never experienced it. It sucks.

Safaa, to her credit, just sighs and slides under the covers with him and Rhino. Zayn looks at her beautiful, dark eyes, finding them full of worry. For him.

It’s so easy, to understand what people feel for him, when he’s able to feel the same things as well.

“What happened, Zee?” she whispers.

Zayn tells her. He doesn’t think he makes too much sense, with the way he sobs and gasps and sniffles, but Safaa listens anyway.

At the end of his pitiful tale, she sighs and hugs him, squeezing Rhino between them and not caring when the dog licks her whole face. Zayn doesn’t find it in his heart to laugh.

Safaa doesn’t comment and doesn’t give him any advice, and Zayn thinks he loves her, has to, even if he can’t feel it, because that’s exactly what he needs. To speak without receiving any answer. To have someone listen to him cry now that he can.

Safaa makes him the apple pie, and they eat all of it. Zayn would keep it and eat a slice a day to try and make it last longer, but he knows that then it would go bad. So he eats all of it, and cries about it when it’s gone.

Safaa doesn’t judge him. She stays with him until it’s time for her to leave and go back to the train station to catch the train home, and right that moment, the doorbell rings insistently.

Zayn, again, thinks it’s Harry. His stomach churns while he thinks _I’m not ready_ and _I wanna kiss you_ , but again, it’s not Harry.

It’s Louis and Liam.

Liam smiles at Safaa. “Right on time” he says “C’mon, doll, I’ll give you a ride to the station”

Safaa smiles and hugs him, and Louis. “Please don’t leave him alone? He took things. A fuckton of them. Like anger and sadness. They’re fucking him up” Zayn hears her say.

Louis sighs, and nods at Safaa. She hugs Zayn, and Zayn does his best to stop the flow of tears opened by that hug and watching her leave with Liam.

He already misses her, for Christ’s sake.

“Come on, you twat” Louis announces when they’re alone “Let’s go smoke one”

Zayn doesn’t feel like smoking, because smoking would mean finishing his cigarettes eventually, and what if he doesn’t find his brand in any shop after this packet’s over?

Louis sighs. “You’re in a panic, Zed. Breathe, okay? I brought you more cigarettes. You’re not gonna run over. I promise” he says, carefully.

Zayn exhales a little. He didn’t think anyone would notice so many details about his… condition. But Louis apparently did.

Harry did too. He shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about Harry.

Except he really wants to think about Harry, because Harry’s good, so good, and why did he even _look_ at Zayn when he deserves so much better?

Harry’s better off without Zayn, for sure. The thought makes Zayn’s breath break.

“Breathe” Louis says again, making Zayn sit in one of the armchairs in his backyard, and then sitting in the other one.

Zayn nods and breathes, lighting a cigarette when he feels like he’s breathing properly again. Nothing better than smoke in your lungs when you’re already having trouble breathing, innit?

“I think you made a mistake, Zed” Louis says after a couple of drags. His tone is careful. Zayn hates it, when Louis is so wary of him. Is hate a side-feeling as well? Zayn clearly feels it now.

He chuckles bitterly. “When? When I made Harry want to leave me? Or when I even started to think someone like me could be enough for someone like him?”

Louis shakes his head. “When you started thinking that the only reason he gave you the happiness was to have a chance with you”

Zayn frowns. “How do you even know about that? Did you speak to him?” he asks, all his organs constricting in his body. What has Harry said to Louis? What is he doing? Where is he?

“Calm down, Zed” Louis says soothingly “I didn’t speak to Harry. Harry isn’t speaking to anybody, to be honest. I spoke to Niall”

“What do you mean, Harry’s not speaking to anybody?”

Louis shrugs. “Niall became friends with Liam and me after that night we went out, yeah? And he told me Harry got back home yesterday completely wrecked, saying something about you getting everything wrong, rambling that he couldn’t believe you would think so low of him for giving you his fucking happiness, and then he kinda… stopped talking”

Zayn’s heart is hammering its way out of his chest. He thinks Grimmy would love his heart-rate, now. “What are you fucking saying? Stopped talking? What?” Zayn asks, urgently.

Louis nods. “Niall thinks that Harry went in a, like, emotional overdrive or something. That he was too overwhelmed by whatever happened between you two, so his brain did the only thing he could to preserve itself, and shut off”

Zayn bursts into tears. “I don’t understand, is he okay? Do you mean he’s hurt? Like, in a coma or summat?” he asks, his voice breaking more than three times while he speaks.

“No!” Louis screams “Fucking hell, Zayn, why are you being so intense? I just meant what I said! He isn’t speaking. Maybe he doesn’t want to, maybe he just needs to be alone for a while. I didn’t say he’s in a fucking coma, for fuck’s sake!”

Zayn chokes back his tears and wills himself to calm down. “I’m sorry” he tells Louis “I took too many feelings. I didn’t think it would break me like this”

Louis sighs. “I guess now we have a pretty clear idea about how poor Haz is feeling, eh?”

Zayn feels anger mounting inside of him. “Poor Haz? _Poor Haz_? He _lied_ to me, Lou!” he screams, standing up “He lied to me while he fucked me, he lied to me while I fucked him, he lied to me whenever he looked at me in the eyes!”

Louis stands up too. “You’re being fucking stupid, Zayn!” he screams back “Harry fucking _loves_ you! Tell me something, Zayn. Do you know that Liam was waiting for me to sneak into your debut party a year ago, so that he could use the occasion to hit on me, because he had a crush on me?”

Zayn nods. “Yeah, Lou, of course I know. I was there when he told you”

“And do you think this makes our relationship less _valid_ , less _real_?”

“No!” Zayn exclaims.

Louis smiles. “Then how does it really matter _why_ Harry gave you that fucking bottle?” he asks “Why is the _how_ the bottle came to you more important than what the happiness brought you? You’d have never dreamed about even talking to Harry without it. So even if he did use it to catch your attention, why is it a bad thing?”

Zayn doesn’t answer. Louis is right, is the thing. Because Zayn can be angry and disappointed at Harry all he wants, but one thing in that whole mess is true. Zayn needed the happiness to realize what _treasure_ laid there for him in the form of Harry Styles, and even if Harry provided the means and hid it, it doesn’t make what Zayn got out of it any less true or important.

Louis must see the small realization in Zayn’s eyes, because he smiles again, and pats him on the shoulder. “Get your fucking phone and call him, Zayn” he says “I’ll be with you the whole time, like I started doing at your fucking debut party while Liam Payne grabbed my arse on national tv”

 

*

 

Zayn doesn’t call Harry, but he texts him. _Haz, babe, please, can we talk?_ , he just writes.

Harry doesn’t answer, and Zayn cries a bit in Louis’s arms about it.

An hour later, however, the doorbell rings.

This time, Zayn doesn’t think it’s Harry. He thinks it’s Liam.

But, this time, it is Harry.

He looks an utter wreck, his eyes bloodshot and his curls a mess. He’s standing right on the threshold, without coming in, even after Louis opens the door.

Zayn looks at him, and Harry stares back. “Can I come in?” Harry says at last.

Zayn feels himself deflate when he hears Harry’s voice. _He’s okay he’s speaking he’s okay_ , he thinks. Is it relief? How can relief be a side-feeling of _bad_ emotions?

Zayn stops thinking. He doesn’t need that answer too, right now.

Louis pats Harry on the shoulder, and then leaves, telling Zayn he’ll check up on him in the morning.

 _Does this mean Harry isn’t leaving?_ , he asks himself.

Harry stays at a safe distance from Zayn when they’re left alone, even though it’s not really safe, because Zayn feels a bit like he’s dying every second he spends far away from Harry.

Harry stares at him some more. “Do you remember when you first spoke to me?” he asks then.

Zayn nods. “Yeah. You were behind me in the mirror and I asked you if your eyes had always been green”

“No. That wasn’t the first time you spoke to me. Four months ago, when I was hired, I made a mess on my first day, because I was too nervous. You told me to chill, because you yourself made a mess of your job every other day, so it was okay if I did the same. Then, the same night, after your show, you got drunk”

Zayn doesn't remember any of it.

“Of course you don't remember, you were completely shitfaced, Zayn” Harry chuckles bitterly “I knew you’d taken something like anger from your donation box, and yet you were so kind to me anyway. But I reckon it was too much, the anger, wasn’t it? It’s one of the worst, and you didn’t like it, so you got drunk. I watched you, we were out with the whole crew. You got completely hammered and then stumbled out of the club. I was worried for you, so I followed you and brought you home, here. Andrew gave me the address. I took care of you. Rhino liked me on the spot some days ago because we already made friends the night you got drunk. Scared the shit out of me, to be honest. I thought he was gonna bite my face off. But then I found out he likes shoes. Let him chew on one of mine and he decided I was okay. So he let me take you to bed”

Zayn doesn’t even know what he’s feeling, but he’s feeling a lot of things. He’s sad that Harry was in his house without him being conscious enough to remember it. He’s angry Harry hid other things from him. Why?

Harry takes a breath. “Before you fell asleep, you said something that broke my heart” he keeps speaking.

“What?”

“You said that I was the kindest and happiest person you’d ever met, and that you wondered how I felt, being happy. You told me that bad feelings suck, but it’s something. That night, you told me that you’d never been happy, and it broke my heart, because everybody deserves to know what happiness feels like, especially someone like you. So I got my happiness extracted, and I gave it to you. For that reason. Not because I wanted to have an easier access to you or whatever the fuck you said yesterday. You hurt me, thinking so low of me”

Zayn can’t fucking believe it’s so _easy_ , but he knows Harry’s telling the truth. He might have omitted things, but he never actively _lied_ to Zayn. “But why didn’t you tell me?” Zayn asks, frustrated.

“Zayn, if you knew the happiness was mine, would you have taken it? Would you have taken it, knowing that the price was the loss of my happiness? The happiness of someone you knew?” Harry retorts, the stubborn tilt to his jaw right there, where Zayn loves it.

Zayn thinks about the question Harry’s asking, and shakes his head at last.

“Exactly” Harry nods “That’s why I didn’t tell you. But then, you said that you liked me, and you said you wanted to be seen with me, be official and steady and all that, and it became too much, hiding it from you. So I wore the ribbon at the party. And I wrote that thing when I knew you were watching. I wanted you to understand. I didn’t think you would be mad about it”

“I wasn't technically mad. I can’t feel anything”

“You don’t need to have emotions, for me to understand what you’re feeling” Harry says, and there’s something a bit desperate in his tone “You’d have been mad if you could, and you’re mad now that you took anger and whatever else”

“How do you even know I took those feelings?” Zayn has to ask.

Harry shakes his head, and he finally, _finally_ , starts to take some steps closer to Zayn. “I can see it, Zayn. I’ve done nothing but watch you since I met you. I know you. And I loved seeing you happy, Zayn. Happiness suits you so much, you have no idea. It’s been a small price to pay, for you to get mine. But that’s not the reason I wanna be with you. I wanna be with you because of you, and I don’t care if you’ll never feel anything for me again, because I was lucky enough to have you while you could, and I know you meant everything you said to me. And I’m proud to have been the reason you felt good for once”

Zayn still has the anger and the other bad feelings, but he can feel them slowly subside, because he does know how not to let them control him, and he’s not mad at Harry, probably never really was to begin with.

“So I got my happiness extracted once again” Harry says, taking a small, pink bottle from his pocket and giving Zayn a small heart attack. “Take it. Use it when you need it. And if you don’t want to have anything to do with me anymore, I’ll understand, and I’ll leave you alone”

Zayn doesn’t speak for a moment. He watches Harry, and the pink bottle in his hand. He takes in the sad frown on his forehead, the frown he hated before even knowing Harry.

And he realizes what needs to be done.

“Do you really mean it? That you don’t care if I can’t feel anything?” he asks Harry, getting rid of whatever distance is left between them.

Harry doesn’t back off. “Yes” he says, looking at Zayn in the eyes.

Zayn nods. “Then drink it. Take back your own happiness, and stay with me after that”

Harry stares at Zayn for what feels like a thousand years.

And then, just like that, he uncaps the bottle. Zayn is hit with the scent of Harry’s cologne for a second, and the next Harry’s closing his eyes and downing the content of the bottle like Zayn asked.

“As I told you when this all started, Zayn” Harry says when he’s done “I have enough feelings for the both of us”

 

*

 

Harry stays at Zayn’s for a week, until Zayn’s bad feelings go away for good. He takes care of Zayn, and Zayn of Harry, and they never go out, relishing in the time spent together.

Harry tells Zayn in great detail about what he’s been feeling in the past few days.

Zayn does the same.

They kiss, and fuck, and sleep. Harry now understands Zayn better than before, because Zayn needed the bad feelings to be able to tell Harry what he was really feeling.

Zayn also understands Harry, now. He understands him and loves him, and has no doubts anymore that Harry loves him just the same.

After a week, they go out of the house.

Harry’s in his usual cheerful mood, prancing along the sidewalk and telling Zayn a terrible joke about yodelling.

Zayn can’t feel happiness, but he thinks he can feel Harry’s a little bit anyway.

Harry’s too distracted when he crosses the street, and he doesn’t see the car.

Zayn does, though.

A lot of things happen.

The car tries to halt, the tires screeching, but it’s too late, it isn’t stopping.

Harry freezes, panic written all over his face.

Zayn throws himself on him.

It’s a miracle, really, that nobody gets hurt. Zayn manages to push Harry away from the trajectory of the car, and they both fall on the opposite sidewalk, while the man at the wheel stops a few meters further and gets out of the car, screaming at them to ask them if they’re okay.

It’s a miracle, really.

It’s also a miracle that something in Zayn’s chest breaks.

He remembers, now.

Harley.

The dog he grew up with, and how he died. Zayn was only eight, taking Harley out for a short walk, and the leash had broken. Harley had run into the street, and gotten hit by a car, dying right in front of Zayn.

Zayn remembers the pain he felt that day. He did feel it, all of it.

He screamed and cried and something in him broke.

When his mum ran into the street, though, Zayn’s eyes were dry.

Zayn feels it all again now. The pain for Harley’s death, the fear of Harry about to meet the same fate. The anger for the driver going too fast, the anger for Harry himself being too distracted because he’s a klutz.

The love he feels for this man with the curls and the dimples and the shirts.

He realizes he’s crying and laughing at the same time only when Harry grabs his face with his hands, calling Zayn’s name over and over again, screaming with him.

Zayn has read about it somewhere, he thinks.

About trauma blocking your emotions, making you act and not-feel, a hundred per cent like a No-Feeler. It only makes sense, he supposes, and it explains also why his parents never want to talk about Harley, why they have always been hell-bent on saying that Zayn was an affectionate child.

He was, he reckons. Because he wasn’t born a No-Feeler.

All it took was Harry Styles, and the utter shock of being about to watch him die like his beloved dog had, for Zayn’s emotions to come back.

Zayn breathes raggedly, crumbling against Harry’s chest, and cries, and screams, and laughs.

Harry must understand something’s changed, because he lets Zayn cry and scream and laugh, shushing him, and whispering something that Zayn interprets as “You can feel it, don’t worry, I’ll help you”.

 

*

 

**Epilogue**

They manage to keep it a secret for exactly a month, that Zayn’s not really a No-Feeler.

Zayn is definitely enjoying being a normal person, if he’s honest, and he’s having his fun with the press, pretending to be the usual ‘Robot’ when in reality he’s fighting not to laugh in their faces.

It’s intense, sometimes. Zayn has spent his whole life without any feelings of his own, and consequently he hasn’t really learned how to deal with most of them.

Harry helps. He’s spent his whole life dealing with more feelings than most human beings can tolerate, so he knows how to guide Zayn. Harry knows when to let Zayn cry, and when to try and cheer him up. He knows when he needs to be held down and fucked into the mattress to get rid of a bad feeling, and when he just needs to be told to get a grip and act like a normal person.

For the rest, Zayn’s life is pretty fucking normal, cheers.

So, when Andrew says he thinks it’s finally time for Zayn to come out as a Normal-Feeler, like he now likes to call himself, Zayn asks to have an interview with Radio 1 and Nick Grimshaw specifically.

It’s really only a coincidence, that Grimmy has another Heart-Rate Game ready.

Well, Zayn grins, this time Grimmy really has a surprise coming his way.

And if he tries to fucking flirt with Harry again, he’s got an even bigger surprise coming.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. This has been hard to write and I'm feeling a bit self-conscious about it, so any review and constructive critique is welcome!  
> I have a ton of more works coming soon, so stay tuned.  
> Till next time!  
> I am also on Tumblr as wont-you-stay-till-the-am.tumblr.com, come hit me up if you wanna talk.


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